


Make a Spark, Break the Dark, Find a Light With Me

by TwiExMachina



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety Disorder, Bittersweet, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, False Identity, Forced Eye Contact, Gags, M/M, Making Out, Not wanting to fall in love but doing so anyway, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiExMachina/pseuds/TwiExMachina
Summary: The idea of a masque is that nobody knows who you are.  If nobody knows who you are, then you are no longer you.  If you are no longer you, then there are no roles that you have to fill.  If there are no roles, then you have no obligations.  If there are no obligations, then you have nothing to lose.So there's nothing wrong with letting High Prince Ryoma pin Crown Prince Xander against the wall and letting him kiss him breathless.  Because they aren't each other, not during a masquerade.(Alternatively, how Xander and Ryoma contradicted and avoided at every turn until they fell head first into each other.)





	1. The Day Before (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I don't know if I tagged everything I needed to whoops~~  
>  This takes place an AU I like to call "AU where they're not on the brink of war, but they still hate each other shhhh don't think about it too much just let me have this"
> 
> Title and lyrics used in chapter summaries are from the song Lose It by Oh Wonder
> 
> Special thanks to [shadowyin-yang](shadowyin-yang.tumblr.com) for listening to my ramblings about this and helping me find out a title.  
> Preliminary thanks to [khalyelyn](khalyelyn.tumblr.com) for her Italian language reference.

Trying to keep a stable relationship between Nohr and Hoshido was like mediating a relationship between cornered dogs. For a good percentage of the civilians—especially those along the border that found themselves in contact with the other country frequently—they couldn't care less about their neighbors. Perhaps they weren’t on the best terms, but they certainly tolerated each other rather well enough. With the treaty preventing Nohr from pushing against Hoshido, they had nothing to fear. But the further up the ladder one went, more and more contempt bubbled between them. The royal families especially hated each other, at least the children did. Their parents got along well enough, not friends but not eager to punch someone in the face as the siblings were. They were capable of talking to each other in a professional context. 

Their children could not. Their parents bringing them to diplomatic meanings only seemed to hurt relations. It had been that way for near twenty years, when the treaty was first being set and Sumeragi brought his son to Nohr. It was all for rather silly reasons that they started to hate each other, but it happened when they were so young that it didn't fade as they all grew up.

King Garon proposed that they hold a masquerade and host the Hoshidan royal family. It was supposed to be a gesture of peace, showing that Hoshido and Nohr could get along, that their treaty wasn’t a mistake, and that it was working. Xander didn’t see how the masquerade would end without bruises.

Xander looked up as Camilla pulled her wyvern down to the earth, landing next to Xander. “I just bumped into dear Princess Hinoka,” she said. The ‘dear’ was drawn out, accented so sweet it turned sour. “Looks like they didn’t get eaten by the wolfskin after all.”

“I’d love to hear the explanation as to why they’re late then,” Xander said. He could just see the carriage holding the other Hoshidans winding down the hill towards them and the palace they’d be staying in. “Gods, they’re coming the night before the masquerade…”

“I’d love it if they didn’t show up at all,” Leo grumbled.

Elise slapped Leo’s arm. “Be nice! We’ve got to try, at least.”

“I’ll try if they try.”

Xander probably should’ve scolded Leo. But he really agreed too much to scold. He was allowed to be petty. Luckily, Azura picked up his slack. “It’ll be all right, Leo. It’s a masquerade. Things change at a masque.”

Azura had faith. She was the only one who could get along with a Hoshidan. A single Hoshidan. Kamui. Everyone else couldn’t stand each other. It started with the eldest sons. They met when they were eight years old and there was never a single moment when they got along. Xander was a shy boy, and Ryoma was loud. Xander didn't have the energy or the will to hold a conversation for too long, and Ryoma took that as a personal insult and responded with insults and sarcasm. By the time Xander was comfortable enough to hold a conversation, neither of them had anything nice to say to each other.

Hinoka had a pride bigger than a lion, with a full-face blush that came easier than wine. Camilla found these traits adorable. Camilla mothered her once when they were both kids, Hinoka blushed and spat, and Camilla kept teasing. Hinoka snapped, pushed back too hard and hit a soft spot neither of them knew hurt that much. The teasing and barbs never stopped, and even though Camilla flirted, it always tasted sour.

Leo and Takumi bonded over books and for a time were the best of friends, but being in close contact ended up being a detriment for them. Leo was too serious at times, and Takumi was loud and demanded attention. They scratched each other raw until they hated each other.

Elise and Sakura didn't have the venom of their elder siblings, but Elise's bubbly and cheerful nature did not go well with Sakura's crippling anxiety. Elise had frequent and loud changes of mood, and Sakura simply could not handle her. 

The only two on truly even ground were Kamui and Azura, both quite fond of each other. But for everyone else, they were dogs snapping at each other, their love for their siblings only making things worse. Xander had nothing truly personal to hold against any of the other members of the family, but they hurt his siblings, so naturally all of them were horrendous.

The sentiment, he was sure, was shared between all of them. Xander squinted at the sky, saw the sunset glistening off of the wings of Hinoka’s pegasus. He watched her flight pattern. “Is she…scouting?”

Camilla hummed. “I’d say so. Isn’t that adorable?”

They were hosting the masque at a Nohrian city near their border, so it’d be easy for their Hoshidan guests to go home. Perugia was probably the safest city in all of Nohr, and it was well off as well, with only a small underground network. They were going to be staying in a palace, alongside the other guests. There was nothing to fear. They really didn’t trust Nohr at all. Though Xander couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t feel the same.

Hinoka stayed in the air until the carriage rolled to a stop and the royals got out, standing in a line in front of the Nohrians, their retainers behind them like an army. They stared each other down and Hinoka swooped down next to Ryoma. Hinoka steadied her pegasus into a landing, hooves tapping against the stone road. Xander didn’t know if it was on purpose or if the noise startled Marzia, but Camilla's wyvern puffed out its frill and hissed at them. Nohrian beasts were trained to be able to handle wyverns. Pegasus didn’t have the same training. Hinoka's pegasus began beating its wings, ready to fly again, scattering dust. It had a wild look on its face that Xander saw in bucking beasts. Hinoka dug her heels into her pegasus’ side and tugged at the reins until she steadied. 

"Oh my," Camilla said, mouth open in mock shock. "Be more careful, wouldn't you?"

Hinoka flushed red and gripped the reins. "You—" she started, and Camilla laughed when she didn't finish. 

Ryoma put his hand on Hinoka's arm, and she deflated. Ryoma stepped forward towards Xander, past the hefty distance that Hoshidans preferred for conversation, and past the Nohrian comfort zone, where he stopped, near on Xander’s toes. "Your message was quite vague. Do you think you could expand upon it?"

Ah yes, Ryoma's typical power play, old and worn. Xander long stopped being uncomfortable by that disregard for personal space. If Ryoma wanted to puff up his feathers in an attempt to be intimidating, then he could go right ahead. "I thought it was quite simple. Are simple concepts so hard to understand?"

"When worded so poorly, it does become difficult to decipher."

Leo scoffed behind him and both Xander and Ryoma turned to look at him. "Honestly, it's a masque. What's hard to understand about that?"

"The point, for one." Takumi said, glaring at Leo.

"Do you try to sound allergic to fun or is it just a cultural thing?" Leo said like he didn't sneak out of every party that he was obligated to attend.

Xander raised his hand. "Enough," he projected. "We’ll have servants escort your retainers to care for your things. We have tea inside. We’ll discuss there." Xander led the way, his siblings close on his heels. 

"That could've started better," Azura mumbled at his side. Xander looked down at her and hummed softly. Hoshidans and Nohrians just couldn’t get along, especially not the siblings. Just seeing Ryoma pissed him off, set him on edge. Which is probably why Garon proposed a masque in the first place. Hide everyone’s identities, and people were bound to get along without biases. In theory.

"We have extended an invitation for various citizens from both countries," Xander said when tea was served and complained about. "There are a lot of commoners present, people far inland who have had little contact with those from the other country. They've already arrived and been cared for in preparation for tomorrow." He leveled a glare at Ryoma for being so late, then sipped his tea and continued. "The masquerade was proposed to help improve relations by creating a neutral ground. Thus, this is the perfect opportunity for commoners. A masquerade revolves around concealing identities, being someone you're not. It's an extravagant event, one that will benefit the people when they don't have to worry about appearances."

"Of course," Camilla added, leaning on her hand, "this is as much of an opportunity for our nobles. A mask is a powerful object, and with a simple name change, you might as well be anonymous." She chuckled. "You wouldn't believe some stories I have of what people have done. The mask is emboldening. People do things they would not do otherwise and do it with ease."

Xander had a feeling that Camilla was giving them the wrong impression. He really didn’t want to have to hear about one of the royals doing inappropriate things to their guests because Camilla implied it. "As an example: One of the most prominent things I've noticed is the amount of couples of the same gender dancing. At a normal ball, there'd be a fair bit, but at a masque, it can rise to half. Curiosity, the lack of fear, the anonymity, the mask itself helps people explore these things. And that is just one example, you can imagine what you'd personally do given the opportunity."

"It sounds chaotic," Ryoma said, his face blank.

"Only because you don't know better," Leo said. Takumi looked ready to leap across the table and throttle him before Leo continued. "It's a profoundly honest affair. A masque may be a game, just like any court event, but it's amazing how much people let go. It may seem unorthodox, but it will allow our countries to get closer."

No one could miss the word choice. Their countries might get closer, but not them. No mask could change the contempt.

"Alright," Ryoma said, sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And what do we need to do?"

Xander straightened and cleared his throat, falling back into his role. "As far as duties, you have none. This is a Nohrian display, so the Nohrian royalty will be doing the entertaining. You are our guests as much as anyone else, and you will be treated as such. So please put all of your energy of making the most of the masquerade and enjoying yourself.

"Our tailors have created a variety of Nohrian formalwear. Had you arrived earlier, you'd have a selection of designs and colors to chose from and have them created for you. Alas, you will have to deal with what we've provided considering you've arrived so late. They'll be properly fit, of course. We will be able to completely design masks for you, and a servant will help you with that. Half mask or more.” Xander ran his fingers under his cheekbones to show the mask line, then let his hands fall back onto the table.

"Tomorrow night, you may arrive at your own time, though I must request that you do arrive. The ballroom will be searched multiple times throughout the day and before the guests enter to prevent anyone from sneaking in. Your parents have generously donated some ninja to help, so they will secure the area. No weapons will be allowed, but considering it is a masque, there will be little threat to you."

"What will our retainers be doing?" Ryoma asked.

"Enjoying the masque. I realize that it is a dangerous situation to be without retainers, but it is damning if a masked man is followed so closely by two others. It will be unlikely that something will break out, but with ten trained royals and twenty retainers floating around, anything that can happen will be stopped, even without the guards about and among the people."

"Understandable," Hinoka said. "Anything else we should know?"

Xander shrugged. "You will be wearing the masks the entire time. A public unmasking will happen at midnight on the final day, though you are not obligated to join. It is encouraged as it is a light affair. Food will be provided throughout the night and whatever is not eaten will be distributed among the nearby cities for the poor. Dances follow a pattern of one dance that has set steps and three dances that are just for mingling. The musicians know Nohrian and Hoshidan songs. You may make requests at any point. Keys for rooms are available during the day if you wish to abuse them during the masque."

The Hoshidans colored, except Takumi. Sakura was an alarming shade of pink. "Are you suggesting—" Ryoma started.

"Leo frequently uses his room to escape from the party and to easily come back into the ballroom when he knows he's needed."

The color faded. Takumi whispered to Kamui and she whispered back. He turned pink and muttered "oh".

Xander stood. "If that is all, then we shall take our leave."

Ryoma looked to his siblings, who shrugged. "We have no further questions. I'm sure the servants could explain it better anyway."

Ryoma had to stop making himself a tempting target to punch. Xander inclined his head and left, his siblings dismissing themselves as well. In the hallway, Odin, Selena, and Laslow were holding two masks, one that reminded Xander of a bat, the other a blue butterfly, and were furiously whispering. Odin’s whisper was a regular speaking voice though, so Xander could tell they were trying to decide who would wear which mask.

Xander cleared his throat and the three of them broke apart. "All done, milord?" Laslow asked, bowing his head. "There was a significant lack of screaming."

"You act like we don't handle Hoshido with diplomacy."

Laslow winked and grinned, before falling into step at Xander's side as he walked away. "Nevertheless, a masque! I'm excited. Aren't you?"

Xander glanced at him, then faced forward. "I'm Crown Prince. I won't have opportunity to relax, even with the mask."

"Awww," Peri said, skipping to his side. "You're a fun guy and you should have fun."

"You have very odd definitions of fun," Xander remarked. "Nevertheless, I have nobles to entertain. As does everyone else."

"Booooo!" Elise yelled from behind him

"It's not polite to listen in, little light. You may enjoy yourself all you like, but do remember yourself."

Elise ran into his back and shoved him. "You're going to make a party as boring as possible, aren't you?"

"That is my job as the older brother. You should know that by now."

Back in Xander's chamber, Laslow helped him out of his armor and seemed insistent on continuing the conversation. "There's nothing wrong with relaxing you know. It's not wrong to do so. You are allowed that time."

There was an echo in his words, echoing from seven years ago, of Velvet. He pushed that cobwebbed memory away. Ghosts weren’t needed, no thoughts of old retainers necessary. Xander sighed as the last bit of armor was eased off of his stomach to join the rest of the plates, heavy layers that he’d be wearing every day, just in case. "It's not that simple."

"And here I thought a masque made everything simple."

"People still know who I am."

"Only if you let them, I imagine. Even then, I’m sure you’d fool anyone who hasn’t seen you day after day." Laslow hung up the last of the armor and went to where Xander's various masquerade outfits sat. He took Xander's mask, the top half of a lion, colored a tarnished gold. "Blond men are not hard to come by in Nohr, and the lion is a common motif. If half of the Nohrians are not sporting this mane, I'd be surprised." Laslow held the mask to his face and grinned. 

Xander sighed and took the mask away. "Just because there is opportunity does not mean it's right to take it. I have my duty."

"You have a lifetime of duty ahead of you. I'd just like to see you live before you die. You deserve that, at the very least."

Xander turned to Laslow, surprised. Laslow's face was serious, and he looked distant. Xander’s memory returned and solidified. Xander remembered a time, seven, near eight, years ago. It was sharp and clear and he might as well have been there again. The room was lit by a reading lamp at Xander’s side. Xander was studying. A man twelve years his senior leaned across the table and asked if he realized he was worthy of love. 

Xander didn’t know why he remembered that. Something about their faces might’ve held the same weight.

Laslow drifted back down to himself and smiled and Xander found himself joining him. "It's only a week, is all I'm saying.”

"It is only a week," Xander agreed, then removed his circlet, running his fingers through his hair as it fell out of its tight confides and curled freely against his cheeks. "You're dismissed, Laslow."

Laslow loosened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. "Peri wants you too, you realize. She absolutely adores you and likes when you’re fun. I assume in this case she means fun in the traditional sense rather than the Peri one.”

He seemed to have taken ‘dismissed’ as ‘feel free to talk to me as an equal’. It reminded him of his previous retainers, not Velvet this time, but Hephaestion, how casual he was, how he was always his friend. That stung too much. “Your point has been made, Laslow,” Xander said, just to get him to stop echoing.

“Oh, now that sounds promising.” Laslow winked. “Since you seem to be considering loosening up, is there any chance that I can get you to break a stalemate over masks and push it in my favor?"

"No."

"Worth a shot." Laslow bowed, professional, but his smile was kind. "Have a good night, Xander."

Xander let his shoulders sag when Laslow left. He sat down in his chair and picked up the circlet, held it in his hands and watched the candlelight flicker shadows over it. He ran his fingers over the sharp points. He wouldn't be wearing it at the masque. Seven nights without his crown. That would be the longest he'd ever not worn it. 

Xander put the crown aside, leaned back in his chair, and sighed.


	2. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And don't you stop the music, get into it, won't you dance with me?  
> Find a place and lose it, you can do it, won't you dance with me?

Xander spent the entire day running around the palace making sure that everything was perfect for that night. To be more accurate, he had been spending the entire month organizing the masquerade to ensure that everything was perfect. Now it was the day before and Xander still wasn’t sure that everything would be perfect enough for the masquerade. It wasn’t just a masque, it was a grand gesture. And for the gesture to work, it needed to be properly maintained and supervised. The commoners needed to feel comfortable and welcome in an extravagant event. The nobles needed to feel accommodated at all times. The Hoshidans and Nohrians needed to feel comfortable among people who hated each other. The Nohrians needed to know that their culture was here and bright and bold. The Hoshidans needed to feel like they weren’t being stifled by the Nohrian culture.

And Xander had to keep it that way for a week. 

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack at this rate,” Peri muttered, half lying on the table.

“Having me drink tea will not help my heart rate,” Xander said, but drank anyways. It took the combined effort of Peri and Elise to get Xander to sit down for tea. He was sure their intention was for him to relax, but it just allowed him to mentally organize his schedule for the rest of the day.

“You know, you don’t have to work so hard, Xander,” Elise said, piling an alarming amount of sugar into her cup. She grinned at him and bounced in her chair (beside her, Peri mimicked the motion). “We’ve got this. Camilla’s done this for years and she’s great at it, Azura’s charming and pretty, Leo’s smart and has his own little schedule for everything, and I’m cute. We’ve got this, so you can relax.”

“Thank you, Elise, but I’ll only feel calm when this is all over.” Well, calmer. He took a drink from his tea. “Do you have your outfit for tonight?”

“Yep. Effie helped me pick it out.”

“Do you have five nobles you want to talk to tonight?”

“Yes, but I’m gonna try to focus on the commoners. I’m less intimidating for them.”

Xander smiled. He didn’t even need to direct her. “Good. Thank you, Elise. Knowing that you’ve planned so much is a comfort.” Not that there wasn’t a hundred other things to perfect, but it still helped. It wasn’t Elise’s burden anyway. She was the youngest princess and he was the crown prince. No one had the burdens he had. 

Elise nodded and stirred her tea. “Brother?”

“Yes little light?”

“I was wondering…why are you wearing your armor? This is a palace. It isn’t home, but it’s kinda like a vacation home. So, I guess, I don’t understand why you’re dressed like that. Should I have my staff with me?”

“If it’d make you feel comfortable,” Xander replied, then looked at his tea. “This is just in case. But you shouldn’t worry.”

Elise hummed, then pushed the subject on something lighter, and Xander humored her while he drank. With his tea finished and the rest of the day planned, he left to finish his work.

“Hey, Xander?” Peri asked as they walked down the halls. “You think it would be easier if you got the Hoshidans to actually do something?”

“Absolutely not,” Xander replied without even thinking. “You can’t trust a Hoshidan with anything.”

\---

Xander was one of the first to arrive at the masquerade when the doors were opened, as was expected of him. Some people recognized him immediately, just from that. Which made his job easier. He sat with some nobles and sipped wine as they talked and ate. His plate was empty. He had already eaten before the doors opened, and didn't want his clothes to get dirty. Even as royalty, he rarely got to dress in something so extravagant. 

Masquerades were about presentation, bold colors and bold patterns, fabric so fine they felt like woven purity. Xander wasn’t one to be bright, but he still felt extravagant. His jacket and pants were deep purple with golden buttons that gleamed like stars. The jacket was made of a heavy, stiff fabric, meant to be worn unbuttoned to show off his loose black shirt and the intricate constellations sewn in fine gold. The pants, by comparison, were slimming and simple, the only finery the fine leather calf high boots that made him feel more military than noble (though the masquerade was a battle in his own right). He did feel odd without any weight around his neck, no cravat or other jewelry, but he was aiming for subtle. 

His mask was the head of a lion, with an elegant mane of coifs that resembled Xander's own hair. The weight of the mask was unfamiliar, and he wasn't used to the curl of hair being pushed back and out of the way instead of hanging in the corner of his vision. No circlet. 

Though the weight of the crown was still there in every move he made. Xander socialized and kept his eye on the door, keeping track of his siblings as they arrived, noting the retainers filing into the crowd (and discovered that Laslow won the right to wear the blue butterfly mask and wore an elegant royal blue tunic to match, Selena the black bat mask, which left Odin in an incredibly gaudy gold mask with multi colored jewels on it). He didn't notice any of the Hoshidan royalty, to his surprise. Either they had slipped in among a crowd, or the hairstyles of Hoshido were similar enough that they truly were anonymous.

The masquerade bloomed, and Xander could no longer deny dances. He didn't take many, made sure he was deep in conversation when the dances without steps came on to deter the suitors. And by the gods, there were a lot of them. Xander knew he was attractive, was incredibly pretty by Hoshidan standards as well. But it was getting ridiculous and using dancing as an excuse to get across the room did not help make him less attractive. At every turn, he had to refuse casual requests and flirtations, pushing away to find the next noble in need of entertainment.

As another dance started and he was left alone, Xander looked around the room, taking stock of everyone there. He saw Laslow flirt with yet another woman and fail yet again. If Xander had gauged the pattern right, by the next dance, some gentleman would ask him to dance. Peri—her hair still somehow tamed from when Xander took a brush to it—was scaring someone with a story. Elise was dancing with Arthur, standing on his feet. Next to them, Kamui and Azura swayed.

And then he saw Hinoka, standing alone, looking around at the people who glanced and turned away from her. He would've passed on like the others, but she looked so out of her element and lost and close to frightened that Xander found it impossible ignore her. She hurt his sister before, and she picked fights often with the others, and should have been reason enough to move on. But she looked so much like Azura when she got overwhelmed that he walked over and stood next to her. 

She looked at him and glared. She should've looked impressive in a blood red suit and black leather gloves, with a sharp crow mask on her face, but she was curled in on herself, with none of the wideshouldered confidence she usually had. He bowed to her and she snapped back at him. "What do you want?"

For a second, he didn’t respond. Xander didn’t know how to handle Hinoka, what approach to take. But if she was behaving this way, he decided that it would be best to lecture her. They were both royalty. It fit. “Just because you're wearing a mask doesn't mean that your actions are absolved of consequences."

She did not take that well at all, glaring up at him, speaking through gritted teeth. "What gives you the right to say that? I outrank you in every way."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not on Nohrian soil you don't."

She blinked, startled out of her anger. She stared at him, then squinted. "Wait…are you…Xander?"

"I'll let the lack of a title slide for now," he responded.

She seemed to forget that they hated each other and just stared at him, like he wasn’t sure he was actually there. "I didn’t recognize you at all, wow. You just sound so different…quieter."

"Do I?"

She nodded. "Usually you're projecting and loud." 

Xander was surprised. He had never noticed. Though usually she ended up in the company of Ryoma, and he did project around him, always prepared for the inevitable yelling. 

Hinoka crossed her arms over her chest, remembering herself. "So what? You here to lecture me?"

He sighed. Talking to her was like talking to Leo, except with more anger. That did not mean he knew how to talk around her. "No, and I apologize for my earlier comment. I'm telling you that it'd be good to relax. You are a guest here. You are meant to enjoy yourself, yet everyone's keeping a wide berth.”

For a while she was silent, then some wall fell and she curled on herself. "This isn't exactly me," she muttered.

He didn’t know how to continue. He needed to feel her out a bit, understand and find a proper solution. Xander caught the attention of a passing servant and took two flutes of champagne from him, passing one to Hinoka. She hesitated and took it and took a small sip. "Dancing and socializing may not be you, but as a princess, I'd expect you to have some experience."

"You better be getting to the point…" Hinoka muttered against the glass.

"Forgive me. I don't know you too well."

"That's because we don't like each other."

"True. My point: You have training. You know how to survive as needed. So handle the masque as needed. An example from my own family. Leo always takes the opportunity to grab a key. The key, the room, is a safe space. He socializes when he needs too, and when he's overwhelmed, he catches one of his retainers and unwinds in the room with them. He can also approach his retainers at his leisure. They are good enough friends that they can just be men together rather than master and servant. Conversation with them is not as exhausting as handling guests. So when he has gained back the energy to handle everyone again, he can leave. And the cycle repeats." Xander drank, and took in Hinoka as she thought.

"How could he find them?" Hinoka muttered, looking around the room.

"Odin tends to be loud enough that he's noticeable anywhere. The nature of the masque means that his dramatic nature draws an intrigued crowd, as I've noticed throughout the night. Niles has been hanging around the food, as it's the easiest place to hold or trap someone a conversation, and he can be rather teasing and cruel, so it's perfect for him." He took another drink as Hinoka stared.

"Do you know them well enough or did you actually see them?"

"Both."

She bit her lip and swirled the champagne. "Azuma seems similar to Niles, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was at the buffet…Setsuna…" she looked Xander. "Have you noticed an absentminded woman?"

"With the drink, there are many of those."

"Sober, the kind of absentminded that means she gets caught in every hunter's trap imaginable."

" I don't recall anyone like that on the dance floor, and certainly that personality would not lead to an invitation to many dances. That description does ring true to a woman causing havoc for the servants at the buffet. But don’t take my word. I do not know them well.”

Hinoka sighed. "I'll find them. We've got a loose relationship too. It'll be nice to have someone else to be with."

He tipped his glass to her. "Good luck."

Hinoka started to walk away, stopped, and hesitantly reached out and patted Xander's arm. She slapped it with too much force, but Xander didn’t comment. "Hey, thanks. You're not too bad."

And that felt right, perhaps not Hinoka, but similar enough to his own siblings at their best. So he relaxed a bit. "Don't go spreading it around. I do have a reputation to uphold." She laughed, and Xander smiled a little bit and bowed to her. "Enjoy the masquerade."

Hinoka was as red as her hair when he straightened. "You…you shouldn't…" Shouldn't bow to someone of lower station than you was clearly what she wanted to say, but couldn't vocalize.

"I am just a man in a mask."

She opened her mouth, shut it, and nodded. "Well. Sir. Thanks again."

Xander couldn't help but smile fondly as she walked away. The smile quickly faded as he heard the dance ending. He could already see out of the corner of his eye a gentleman approaching him, a blur of white. As he tried to think of an excuse to refuse him, Camilla walked in front of him. "I was hoping to steal that young lady, but I suppose you'll do," she said, smiling at him.

Xander smiled back and held his hand out, placing the champagne down to be collected later. "For you, I'll gladly accept." Camilla took his hand and he led her out onto the dance floor. "What dance would you prefer?"

She hummed, then shook her head. "Just don't bore me."

"Will I be leading then?"

"For now."

The music started, and Xander decided that the Viennese waltz was the best choice, would keep Camilla entertained. He started dancing and let her follow as they spun. There were many different dances, and doing something that involved quick, spinning steps seemed dangerous. But Camilla didn't seem concerned as she followed Xander's lead. "You look beautiful, by the way," he started. Her dress was simple in design, sleek and black with scattering of silver like the first snowfall. The extravagancies that came with a masque came through with the layers of shimmering silver fabric underneath the dress and the lace that stretched from her bodice to her throat where it was secured with a thick silver clasp. The corner of her dress was secured to her black opera glove so it showed the layers of silver. With those layers and the quick spins of their dance, she must've looked like the beginnings of a storm. Her hair wasn't styled any differently than how she wore it daily, though it shone with silver sparkles. Her mask was two wyvern wings that crossed over the bridge of her nose and curled down over her cheeks to her jaw. "Positively radiant," he said.

"And you don't look too bad yourself, dear. Now what were you talking to Hinoka about?"

"I was just giving her some much needed confidence."

Camilla rolled her eyes. "Honestly. You are too much of a big brother."

"I have three sisters. I'm not sure what you expected from me."

"It was kind of you. I was going to pester her for a dance to lighten her mood, but you beat me too it."

"That wouldn't have helped her mood."

She shrugged, then her smile fell. She shifted her grip in his hand and squeezed. "You know, that was the first actual smile I saw out of you today. You haven't been enjoying yourself."

"Camilla…" He never liked being lectured by his little sister.

"I have been enjoying the masque, dancing, socializing for pleasure and not for politics. Leo has been in more than a few dances with people other than his sisters and his retainers. Elise has been a delight to all. Even our shy and withdrawn Azura has been seen laughing and stunning the dance floor. And then there is you, stiff back, doing what is expected, and after every dance looking so relieved that it is over. Sure, you smiled around Hinoka, but I don’t think you were helping her purely out of the goodness of your heart. She was a princess, and she had to be entertained, am I wrong?"

"You’re not. I’m not sure what you expected. Even like this, I am royalty."

"I'm not saying you should stop, dear. I understand your duty, but what's the point of a party, of a masquerade if you don't enjoy yourself? Switch, I'd like to lead."

He sighed. "As unorthodox as it is for a waltz, I'll lift you up and spin you so when you're planted down, you can be in the right place to take the lead."

"There aren't any rules right now anyway. I'm ready."

"Brace," Xander instructed as he moved his hands down to her waist. She bent her knees and pushed off as he lifted her, her arms braced on his shoulders. He spun her to the sound of applause and lowered her back onto the ground, careful of her sharp heels, placing his hand on her shoulder as they fell back into the dance with her leading.

"You love us and care for us so much, Xander," Camilla whispered. "I just want the same for you. Don't forget that I'm the big sister here."

"You're younger than me."

"That changes nothing. I care about you, Xander."

Xander sighed and focused on the dance. “You always had a tendency to lecture me when you think it’s best.”

She frowned at that. "Xander. Consider it. Do something unlike you. I want to see an honest smile out of you tonight.”

"Don't give me such high standards."

"Tomorrow night. At the least at the end of the masque. Do something not because you have to but because you want to."

How many people were going to tell him to relax? Camilla should’ve known better. She knew what he had to deal with. She knew why he couldn’t slip an inch. "Fine," he said, though he didn’t think they’d be satisfied in any capacity.

“Just try, dear.” The song ended and they broke apart and bowed to each other. 

“Try is all I can do,” Xander muttered. “But I will.”

Camilla stepped in close and kissed Xander's cheek. "Have fun, brother," she whispered, then stepped away and was swept into the crowd. Xander watched her, then let out a sigh. Whatever anxiety left when he talked with Camilla returned at the thought of everyone else. He was bound to have some suitors asking for a dance after that performance with Camilla. The lift might’ve been too much. Xander realized that the next dance would be a waltz as well. That was not something he wanted to deal with. A dance was a dance, but waltzes were slow, romantic. Unbearable. He looked around at the small crowd of people that began to gather for a distraction, a diversion.

He found Ryoma.

He recognized him immediately. Hoshidan men liked long hair, but no one had hair like Ryoma. It was more a giant mane than actual hair. He didn't even tie it back. He wore a loose white suit with intricate golden patterns, reminding Xander of golden vines climbing a wall. It should've looked gaudy, but worn by someone who wore red armor all the time made it look decent, even nice. He had the confidence to pull it off. His mask was simple, just the base with a red and white design Xander couldn't name, so stylized it looked like war paint. He turned to Ryoma and steeled himself. He had a feeling it wouldn't be good. Nothing good came with Ryoma.

Ryoma stopped in front of him and extended his hand. "That was quite impressive."

What. Xander stared at him, wide eyed. Ryoma just smiled. He opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times. What. Did Ryoma not recognize him? Well, Hinoka didn't, and Laslow correctly guessed the amount of blond men in lion masks, but still. What was he supposed to do in this situation? 

As crown prince, an opportunity to smooth relations with the Hoshidan high prince was not something to miss out on. Xander put his hand in Ryoma's. "And I take it that was your leading line to ask me to dance," Xander said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Mask or not, he didn't like Ryoma.

But Ryoma only smiled and laughed. "And here I thought I was subtle. Ah, but worked, didn't it?"

"It did," Xander noted, stepping onto dance floor. "I just hope you know how to waltz."

"Well enough," Ryoma said, stepping into position. Xander expected him to fight over who would lead, but he just placed his hand in Xander's shoulder and let him lead. Xander blinked and cautiously put his hand on Ryoma's waist. Everything felt off, and he didn't know what to think. There was no training that could direct him when someone that he hated asked for a dance, ignorant of whom he was. And why would Ryoma want to dance in the first place? Maybe Ryoma knew, and he was just playing with him. But Ryoma looked at him and was soft, so unlike what Xander was used to and he believed that he was a stranger to Ryoma.

They started to dance. "Have you been enjoying yourself?" Xander asked, falling into a routine. Ryoma was just another noble that he recognized, nothing more. That’s how he had to proceed.

"I have," Ryoma replied, glancing down at his feet. "It's very Nohrian."

"Yes, that tends to happen when you're in Nohr." It was something Xander would say normally, if Prince Ryoma asked Prince Xander that. It would've been harsh, with an undercurrent of derision. But when he said it then, it was just teasing and light. It didn't have the loudness, the bite. Hinoka might've been onto something when she said he projected around them, that he let anger direct in his tone.

Either way, Ryoma laughed instead of snapping. "True, true. But even still, it's rubbed off on the Hoshidans. Even people who are clearly commoners are more open, are touching each other. You'd never see that in Hoshido,” he added with a wistful look, then blinked and glanced back at Xander. “Dances themselves are uncommon."

"I can tell by the fact you keep looking at your feet."

"Ah, you noticed?"

"Don't worry. Your form is perfect."

"Form is nothing but a pretty picture if it cannot be executed correctly."

"I wasn't going to bring that up, but it is true. Nevertheless, this is nothing like wielding a sword. It's only a few steps in repetition and you're performing them well."

"Which is easier when someone talented is leading me."

A chill, like fingertips walking along his spine, shivered down his back. Ryoma was almost insistent on maintaining eye contact when he wasn't watching Xander's toes, and his tone when saying that was lower, rumbled in his throat. It was friendly, Xander was sure, but it felt too much like flirtation. "Is there nothing similar to this in Hoshido?" Xander asked, desperate for a subject change.

Ryoma thought, then shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing comes close to this." He shifted closer as he said that. "So can I guess that you're a soldier?"

Xander opened his mouth, could feel his cheeks turning pink, hoped the mask hid the worst of it. "That…that won't keep you from stepping on my toes."

Ryoma only smirked up at Xander. Ryoma's power plays made him uncomfortable ten years ago, but meant nothing now. This however, was terribly awkward. "Soldier, correct?" Ryoma repeated.

"It's in poor taste to ask personal comments during a masque. It defeats the entire purpose."

"Who would hold it against me?"

"I would."

Ryoma chuckled, and seemed to tilt his head so he was closer even still. "And I wouldn't want that." Xander desperately wished that Ryoma would have a little decorum. "Considering the span of your shoulders and your continuation of the metaphor, I'll assume you're a soldier."

"Assume away. I doubt you can get close."

Ryoma hummed. "You're obviously Nohrian, and you're of noble blood."

"Congratulations on making the most basic of observations." If Ryoma was going to flirt, Xander was going to be sarcastic while he didn't have to deal with retorts. It was only fair.

Ryoma ignored the barb. "We already know you’re a soldier—” 

“Oh we do, do we?”

“—and one high ranking, judging by how you carry yourself. By birth or by skill, I wonder."

That burned up the sarcasm and Xander ground his teeth together. He wasn't foolish enough to not grant some of his accomplishments to his birth, to his tutors and mentors, but he had had more than a few snide remarks that implied that his skills were from his status, not from the hard work he put into it. Hearing the same thing from Ryoma was too much. When he spoke, he was practically growling. "From hard work."

Prince Ryoma would've met that with as much violence and vitriol as was given to him. But the masked man just nodded and continued, his voice level. "I believe it. You carry yourself too well to have been given it for parentage. If you were in Hoshido, I'd call you a samurai."

"I assume that's a compliment."

"The highest. Samurai aren’t given their honor. They earn it. And I’d assume you’ve earned your esteem as well. You've dedicated your entire life to a duty, to a goal and you've based all of your improvements around that. Am I close?"

Xander thought of his family, the ones he still had, the ones he lost, the ones he couldn't protect, the idea that he might not be enough even still, the long nights with his sword and his anger. "Ah," was all he could say in reply.

"So I guessed correctly," Ryoma said with a proud smile. Xander wasn't sure if he moved closer or if Xander was just made more aware of their distance, or his smile, of his eyes. They were brown, very light, like a sapling's bark. There was an overtone of storm gray.

Xander looked down at Ryoma and looked away again. He could still see Ryoma's smile. "It was close enough," he muttered and Ryoma laughed. Did he always laugh this much?

"I thought so. You seemed like a noble knight. One of justice."

Xander laughed in return, cold and harsh. "Justice is an illusion," he spat, unable to help himself.

Ryoma seemed surprised by that and Xander cursed himself. That was something he knew he had said before to his own siblings, to his retainers, and perhaps it came up when he was around Ryoma as well. That line, that way of thinking, was ultimately Xander. The mask changed nothing. And with how Ryoma was staring at him, differently than before before, Xander feared he was discovered.

Thankfully, the song ended and the dancers broke apart and nothing more could be done. Xander removed his hand from Ryoma's waist and stepped back. They bowed to each other. Ryoma kept eye contact the entire time and Xander could only stare back at him. Xander wondered if he could see past the mask, if he noticed. Xander made to pull his hand away and Ryoma gripped him tighter and pulled him back towards him, stepping close, into his space, into his face, and when he spoke, his voice was low, a rasp. "After two dances, meet me in the second floor corridor, along the western side." And then Ryoma pulled away and walked off.

Ryoma figured out who he was, Xander knew that. He was certain of that. But he didn't know what Ryoma wanted to talk about. Xander dipped into a conversation and looked at the railings. Some people mingled around, leaning over the edge to watch the crowd below. The western side was bare though, probably due to a poor viewing angle. There were decorative trees arching their leaves in front of the railings in front of the orchestra. The orchestra would be the easiest thing to see if someone managed to see past the trees, and people normally preferred to see the dance. There was no reason to loiter there. The only people over there would be those who acquired keys to those rooms. And since it was the first night, there would be little reason to get a room, not when they still could test the waters. Chances are, Ryoma noticed that too.

So Ryoma did not want them to be disturbed. Xander wondered what he'd be yelled at about then. He didn’t do anything wrong. Xander wasn't the one who asked him to dance. It was all Ryoma. Two dances passed, and Xander wondered if he should go at all.

Xander walked up the staircase and into the western corridor. Ryoma was there, waiting, and he looked up from where he was leaning against the wall. He seemed more like the high prince, straight backed and powerful, his face serious. He wasn't hiding anymore. Ryoma pushed off the wall and walked towards Xander, and Xander let himself fall back into his role as crown prince as well. He crossed one arm behind his back and gestured with his right. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked. Tried to ask, and only got three words out before Ryoma grabbed his wrist, shoved him against the wall, and kissed him.

Xander did not think that Ryoma knew who he was. Ryoma's mouth moved against his for a long moment before Ryoma pulled away and stepped back. His face was quickly turning red. "Ah…forgive me. I must've…must've misinterpreted it…or...perhaps…I didn't make my intentions clear. I thought I was being forward. But you are Nohrian, so maybe that was still subtle. And this is a masque as well, so subtle wordplay is key and…"

Xander could only stare. Ryoma was flustered and embarrassed and didn’t seem capable of shutting up. It was so unlike him. Xander laughed and rubbed his head, fingers hitting the mask, the mask that hid him so well, too well, apparently. "Gods, what a mess."

"I'm sorry," Ryoma repeated, now out of his rambling, embarrassed monologue. "I thought I had…made myself clear. My apologies." He took another step back, now just in arms reach, and made to leave.

"Did you really just want to make out with me?"

Ryoma seemed surprised by the question. Xander was too. "Yes. Of course."

"Why?"

"Well…" Ryoma gestured to Xander's entire body almost helplessly. "And the dancing. And the conversation. What did you think it was about?"

"I…" Xander started, then looked away. He didn't know what to say, wasn't usually lost for words, not anymore. He had scripts built up for every conversation, knew how to wrap everything up in proper rhetoric. But he couldn't think of a believable lie. Xander and Ryoma, that made sense. But for two masked men, there was no reason. 

Ryoma sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, again. I was looking for a chance to just let go, and I…" he trailed off, searching for words.

It was almost laughable. Letting go. As if the only way that could happen was by finding some man and pinning him against the wall. Did his siblings nag him too? Did they tell him to stop wearing armor everywhere and to relax? There were so many things just so absurd about the situation, he didn't know what to think, what to focus on. Xander only wished that it wasn't so relatable. 

Xander reached out before Ryoma could awkwardly make his retreat and grabbed his shirt. Ryoma stopped and stared and Xander smirked. Everyone told him to relax, to let go. Well, he was going to let go. "There's something wonderful about the subtlety of a masque, but I find there's a time and place for bluntness." He tugged Ryoma closer.

Ryoma stepped back into his space, nearly on his toes. His eyes were bright. "Are you suggesting," he started, then let the question hang unsaid. There was room still to refuse.

Everyone had been nagging Xander. He ran his thumb against the fabric and smirked down at Ryoma. "I could demand as you did, if you require clarification."

Ryoma leaned in and braced his arm near Xander's head, as if trapping him. As if Xander didn't drag him back. As if Ryoma wasn't shorter. He was really quite shorter than him, not diminutive, but he still had to reach to press their lips together. 

It was slower than when Ryoma first pressed him against the wall, tentative, like Ryoma didn't believe it would last. Xander brought his hand to Ryoma's hair and pushed him closer. Ryoma seemed to gain more confidence and pushed against Xander's chest, kissing harder, and his teeth brushed against Xander's lip. Ryoma pulled back, muttering sorry. Like a bit of teeth would bother him. Xander leaned forward and gently bit Ryoma's lip and pulled him back. Ryoma groaned and Xander chuckled.

When their kiss reconnected, it was more heated, with the force that first came when they had first entered the hallway. Their chests were pressed together, and each ragged breath Xander took pushed against Ryoma's chest. Xander tried not to focus on it too much, instead concentrated on the kiss, Ryoma's tongue in his mouth, the heat and the rush of Ryoma’s hands pushing past the open jacket and rubbing against his ribs. It had been seven years since Xander had kissed someone. Not a kiss like the ones Camilla gave him, an actual kiss, with lust and want and pure heat. But it was nothing like Ryoma, pressed against him, with his hands moving against his body like he was trying to map it out while Xander could only curl his hands around Ryoma and hold on.

Ryoma pulled away and moved his hand to Xander's hair, holding him. Xander didn't realize how starved for breath he was until he was there, panting while Ryoma stared. It prickled at his skin, but he stayed, didn't push him away or try to compose himself and let Ryoma look. "What's your name?" Ryoma asked.

"It is in very poor taste, and is counterproductive to the idea of a masque, to ask a person's name." Xander paused. "Marx." It was a name he rarely used, but it was one he was familiar with, one he'd respond to.

"Marx," Ryoma repeated. Ryoma moved his hand behind Xander's neck and held him there. His hands were cool and Xander shivered. Ryoma pushed his hand against Xander’s neck and Xander found himself tilting his head back at his touch, so easy it was like reflex. Ryoma leaned in and brushed his lips against Xander's neck. Xander could feel his lips curve against his skin. "Mine is Ryoma."

Gods, couldn't the man use a fake name? Xander considered ripping his mask off right there and lecturing Ryoma on proper masque behavior, how to be a noble, and goddamn subtlety. Before Xander could do that, Ryoma pulled off him and left without another word. Xander watched him go and then sighed, and began adjusting his clothes where Ryoma had pushed them aside.

He let out a small laugh as he stood there, alone, still heated from Ryoma’s kiss. No one could say he didn't find a distraction for himself now.


	3. The Second Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loose up, we break the scene,  
> one step deep as you fall to me.  
> Heart clap, we skip a beat.  
> Count one  
> two  
> three

Xander wasn't sure if he was prepared to face Ryoma. He was beginning to regret his actions the night before. He was motivated by pure spite against those who only had his best intentions in mind. And he ended up making out with Ryoma because of it. Ryoma! Even if he was in a good, non-confrontational mood, it was obscene. They were both princes, both ready to rule at any moment, and they did not conduct themselves in that manner, making out against the wall like teenagers. They might've been masked, but that was no excuse. He wanted to lecture Ryoma about his behavior, but then he'd have to admit that he let Ryoma pin him against the wall, and he did not want to even imagine how the conversation would continue from there.

Xander sighed and walked into the dining area. He hoped that everyone’s sleep schedules would’ve been off from the long night of the masquerade and he wouldn’t have to see anyone. Unfortunately, he hoped in vain. Ryoma and Sakura sat at one side of the table, and Camilla and Leo were at the other end. Their retainers filled the empty chairs; none of the royals caring enough about appearances enough to force them to stand. They had known each other for most of their lives. This distant routine was something they were used to, so casual to the other, it was insulting. 

Camilla smiled and stood when he entered. "Hello, Xander." She didn't hug him fully, just tucked her hands into the curve of his elbow and kissed his cheeks. Laslow subtly shifted next to Xander, as if preparing to be greeted next. 

Camilla sat back down and Xander sat next to her. Laslow reluctantly took a seat next to Xander. "I hope you enjoyed yourself at the masque," she said with a pointed look. 

Xander glanced at Ryoma and took a slice of toast from the basket in front of him. "Moreso than others. Lord Fredrick still fussed about his estates the entire time I talked to him."

Leo chuckled. "Ever the worrywart, even at a masque."

Hinoka entered the room, retainers in tow. She glanced and Xander and nodded a bit. "Ohhh, and speaking of worrywarts," Camilla drawled, leaning forward with a grin. This was familiar too, their inability to exist in the same space without digging their nails into each other (with the exception of last night, but nothing counted when they were wearing masks).

Their traditional bile was not what Xander needed so early in the morning. "Camilla," Xander warned as Hinoka flushed.

"She was just so beside herself last night," Camilla explained to Selena. "All alone, looking so very lost."

Ryoma slammed his hands on the table. "That's enough!"

There was silence for a long stretch of time as the siblings glared at each other (except for Sakura, who looked like she was going to stress cry at any moment). Xander didn’t say anything. Scripts did no good around the Hoshidans. Simply breathing the wrong way would have Ryoma biting at his throat.

Then Azuma laughed. "Such violence before breakfast? A surprise, even for this crew. I think this is only proof that the masquerade truly is the most sinful event to befall us." Azuma muttered a prayer into his rice bowl, then ate.

Retainers didn’t have the same venom as the siblings. Decades of hate was just years of teasing for them. It went both ways. Xander didn’t feel anything but annoyance towards most of the retainers (though that also extended to Odin). They had jobs, that was all.

But they were used to the casual atmosphere, and certain retainers basked in that. "If you're so holy," Niles said, playing with his knife and grinning slyly, "then what do you call that play you were doing at the buffet table? Because it seemed quite unholy to me." Xander had to flip through his memory to see if he recognized the retainer at all. Azuma was doing the same thing that Niles was, trapping people in teasing conversations.

"You seem to have a very odd idea of holy," Azuma responded, smiling. "And you can't prove anything at a masque."

"A sinner knows another sinner." Niles licked butter off of his knife.

"Don't do lewd things towards my retainer," Hinoka muttered, looking terribly awkward. Xander was at least relieved that they had managed to destroy the tension.

Niles looked insulted. "Lewd? Me? Perish the thought from that pretty head of yours."

Hinoka bristled, but Ryoma responded faster. "Lord Leo, you would do well to curb your retainer's vile tongue."

"Niles," Leo started, his tone dangerous. That would've been effective on anyone but Niles, who seemed to be ecstatic at the attention. 

Xander decided he should interrupt before another fight broke out. "A masquerade is not a place for flirtations."

"Tell that to your retainer," Niles countered while Laslow made a distressed noise. "He flirted with many a woman last night. I'm sure if he found a dark corner, he'd be making it his home with some lady. Or be made with a gentleman."

"This is a general comment,” Xander continued, his voice projecting. “Please do not use the masque as an excuse to seduce people, or to pursue any relations. The masquerade is only for a week. The only thing that would come from any relations would be sore feelings." He glanced over at Ryoma, who seemed uninterested in the conversation, only the nervous flitting of the chopsticks giving him away. "Don't give me a reason to read uncomfortable reports."

\---

After the awkwardness of the morning, the day progressed with nothing to comment on. It was a relief, and Ryoma was gone from his mind. He helped Peri and Elise with their hair and got dressed for the second night. The suit was the reverse of his outfit from the other night, looser pants and a slimmer shirt and jacket. The jacket and pants were stormy gray. They should've looked plain, but the bright gold chains that dangled made it spark like lightning. There were golden chains along the shoulders, reminiscent of an epaulette, chains from the breast pocket to the interior pocket, chains curving under each belt loop so that when he spun with a dance, the chains flashed. His shirt was black, with golden shimmering buttons. He wore a thin golden necklace around his neck, the end of the chain brushing against his stomach.

He entered just as early as he did the night before, and once again nursed a glass of wine as he talked with nobles. He branched out a bit in his discussion, connecting with some polite Hoshidan nobles, people he felt capable of entertaining. People were still very enthusiastic, and more and more Hoshidans drifted out onto the dance floor. The night was still young, and everyone seemed enchanted by the magic of the early nights.

Late into the masque, he saw Ryoma. He started, recognizing the wild mane, even if it was tied back—Hoshidan style, tied high on his head with the thick band of cloth—and then he recognized the rest of him. He was in white again, with fiery red jagged accents along the edges, lined with a thin thread of gold. His shirt was red, with no ornaments other than the quality of the fabric that caused it to shine. He didn't wear a tie, instead leaving the top few buttons undone. It was annoying how that added to the outfit instead of taking away from it as it rightfully should've.

Xander turned to his glass and drank, watching Ryoma out of the corner of his eye. Xander was just another white, blond Nohrian man in a sea of those like him. He couldn't be recognizable— _oh gods he was coming towards him._

Xander knew how to contain his panic. He handled the fear that froze him into shaking fits slowly, calmly. He walked away like there was nothing wrong and let himself unravel in private before coming back to himself. It was carefully cultivated. He didn’t let it control him. But Ryoma stopping midstride and turning towards him, he did attempt to run from him. Well, fast walk away from him. But Ryoma was faster, grabbed Xander's elbow, and said "Marx."

Xander froze, sighed, and turned. "Now, how did you recognize me?"

Ryoma laughed a bit, and it was clear by his flush that he was embarrassed. "You are not the first man I've called Marx tonight."

"And which am I?"

"The last."

Xander scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm certainly glad you've harassed every blond man in Nohr, and a few of the women."

"It was only five people. They were good sports."

Xander looked down at his wine, watched the burgundy swirl as he twirled the glass. Last night happened, and that should’ve been the end of it. And yet here they were again. "Why?"

"Why did I ask those five? They resembled you well enough."

"Why did you inquire at all?"

Ryoma extended his hand. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does."

"I was enraptured by your dancing, conversation, and kissing." Xander nearly choked at that last comment. "Is that reason enough?"

"To be honest, no."

"Oh well," Ryoma shrugged, unperturbed. His hand was still extended, waiting. "I'd still like a dance."

"I have my wine to finish," Xander said, holding up his half full glass.

Ryoma reached out and touched Xander's fingers from where they were wrapped around the stem of his glass. Xander startled from the touch, and did not fight as Ryoma took the glass from him. Xander gaped as Ryoma smirked at him and drained the glass. "Will you dance with me now?" Ryoma asked, putting the empty glass to the side.

"Well you did drink my excuse," Xander muttered. He took Ryoma's hand anyway, and let him lead on the dance floor. "What dance?"

Ryoma started. "This is not the planned dance? The waltz?"

"Have you not been paying attention?"

He shook his head. "I saw you."

Xander flushed. "How flattering."

"It's the truth."

"You haven't known me for an hour."

"Well, we have time."

Xander ignored him. "What is your preference for dance? Waltz, I know you’re at least comfortable with. How about quickstep? Perhaps foxtrot or tango. I do love a good Viennese waltz as well. " As Xander went down the line, Ryoma looked more and more pale. The dance progressed around them. Xander smirked. "Or perhaps you could just loop your arms around me and sway. That might be more your speed."

Ryoma gave him a withering glare and Xander grinned in return. The glare was probably the most like the Ryoma Xander knew, vitriol and bitterness. It wasn't as prominent as it could've been, probably because Ryoma liked 'Marx' for some reason. That was probably why Xander was so happy, a combination of annoying Ryoma and the fact that his anger wasn't as bitter. 

Ryoma soon smirked, and put his hand under Xander's jacket, against his waist. Xander's smile didn't falter, too trained to let it slip, but his heart rate increased. "Waltz then," Ryoma said, stepping close. "And I'll lead."

Whatever nervous flush had taken over at Ryoma's brazen touch faded away. Ryoma, the boar, thinking he could lead Xander in a waltz. Xander put his hand on Ryoma's shoulder. "Lead away, Ryoma."

Ryoma got the count in his head and then started to dance, looking at his feet.

"After all that talk, you can't even look at me."

"I'm going to really enjoy shutting you up," Ryoma said, looking up at Xander.

That caused Xander to flush, and Ryoma looked elated. Xander closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "You still owe me a reason why."

"Why I'd kiss you?"

Not even Ryoma could be this daft. "Why bother searching for me?" Before Ryoma could think to deflect, Xander continued, squeezing Ryoma's hand. "I'd understand if you had looked into the crowd and recognized me, but to deliberately search me out is ludicrous."

"I think you underestimate how attractive you are."

"No I'm not."

"I did not expect low self esteem from someone like you."

"I'm not because you can't see half of my face," Xander clarified. "And I'm wearing multiple layers. You cannot base someone's attractive qualities on a masque."

Ryoma let out a long sigh and shook his head, focusing on his feet.

"You must've danced with others last night, or talked to them," Xander continued, and Ryoma shook his head over and over again, waiting for him to stop or let it go. "Oh stop that. I have the right to know what brought you back.”

" 'Justice is an illusion' " Ryoma quoted and Xander went still. "Can I be blamed if I want to know about the man who said that?"

Xander spoke slowly, so his voice didn’t reveal anything. "My apologies for troubling you. Though if you wanted to know more, you could've asked instead of shoving your tongue down my throat." Xander couldn't believe he was willingly going down that path again, but it was more comfortable then whatever Ryoma would end up saying.

That seemed to be a more comfortable for Ryoma as well. He looked back up at Xander, smirking. "You didn't seem to object at the time."

"That would be the fault of the aforementioned tongue."

"You pulled me back though."

Ryoma was getting dangerously close, which was a problem when he was leading, was so close to his toes. Xander tried to maintain the distance for the sake of his feet, but Ryoma pulled him by his waist back. If the oaf scuffed his shoes…

"And you're dancing with me now."

"You mentioned before how you were nagged to let go. Well, I needed to relax as well," Xander admitted. "And they were poor decisions on my part."

"Well, from what I hear, masquerades are perfect for bad decisions."

Xander sighed. "It's not the intention…"

"But it's the practice." He moved closer and Xander thought Ryoma was going to kiss him on the dance floor. His feet stepped closer to Xander's.

"Ryoma," Xander started.

"And I wouldn't mind practicing it with you again."

Ryoma stepped on Xander's foot. Stomped might've been more accurate. Put all of his weight on Xander's toes rang the most true. "Gods," Xander groaned, fighting back a harsher curse.

Ryoma turned as red as that stupid faceplate he wore so often. "I am so sorry—"

"These shoes are expensive!"

"It wasn't my intention—"

"Well I certainly hope so! It'd be a barbaric Hoshidan flirtation if it was." The dance ended and Xander pulled away. Ryoma actually let him, but did follow him as he made his way to a chair. Mingled among the crowd, Xander saw Peri laughing and flushed. He wondered if his siblings were watching. Gods, and they'd know that he was dancing with Ryoma, they wouldn’t be fooled by a swirling plate of red and white. 

He sat down at a table and crossed his legs so he could see the top of his foot. Ryoma sat next to him. "Scuffed."

"Can't the servants just clean it?"

They could. That wasn’t the point though. "I will wear these shoes, as they are, for the rest of the masque just to spite you."

Ryoma scoffed, but when Xander looked over at him, he was smiling. Xander couldn't help but let a small smile slip in return. Ryoma was tolerable like this. "I'll hold you to that."

"Oh, and I have a feeling that won't be the only thing you'll hold against me."

Ryoma blinked and Xander turned pink. He hadn't meant to say that. He relaxed too much. He turned to the table and flipped over a glass, and filled it halfway, hoping that he didn't look as desperate for a distraction as he felt. Ryoma spoke quietly next to him. "Should I take that as you'd like a repeat of last night?"

Xander didn't look at Ryoma, swirled the wine in his glass. "I don't know." He sipped. It should’ve been no, but he couldn’t say that. It wasn’t true. But what he wanted was muddled. "I take it you do, though."

"Well, I did enjoy it."

"I noticed."

Ryoma reached up and ran his fingers along the collar of Xander's jacket. He was close enough that the contact grazed the skin of his neck. Xander straightened at the contact, still unwilling to look at Ryoma. Ryoma’s voice was low, seemed to echo somewhere inside of him. "Two dances then?"

"Two dances," Xander repeated. He heard Ryoma stand, and stared at his empty chair. Loathe as he was to admit it, he enjoyed Ryoma's company in the masque. He had never flirted before. He had been flirted at many times before, but that was different, fake (except once, but Hephaestion didn’t count; everything was bold and genuine with him). Everyone who flirted only saw his crown and hoped for his favor, as if he couldn't tell that none of them cared about him personally. But Ryoma was ignorant of his station. Everything he was doing was real and sincere, born out of genuine interest in everything he saw. Xander didn't know why Ryoma pursued him in the first place, but it certainly wasn't for his title. So Xander enjoyed flirting and teasing back. It had all the elegance of politics with none of the bitterness.

And Xander really enjoyed the kissing, the force Ryoma put into it, the heat of his tongue. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed letting Ryoma push him against the wall, how Ryoma did it like against the wall was where Xander belonged. He enjoyed it too much, so much that it became a weakness. He didn't trust the thrill in his stomach.

But still. He wanted, selfishly, not for the companionship, but for the act, the heat. It was like a long, fast day with his horse, or hours sparring. It was a rush, pure and simple, a thrill, an itch to scratch. The fact that it was Ryoma doing it to him made it appealing somehow. They were just using each other, that was all.

But Xander wasn't someone to get his hopes up, to get attached. And he seemed to be getting attracted to the idea too much. He knew Ryoma well enough as Xander to know how badly it could end. Ryoma might've been kind now, under mask at a dance, but ‘Nohrian scum’ was a phrase oft found on his lips. 

The second dance ended and Xander stayed with his wine. After the third dance, he went upstairs. If Ryoma was waiting for him, was that eager for him, then he'd stay, then it’d be worth it. Otherwise, he'd let it go, wouldn't devote any more time and energy to him. He'd tell Ryoma his true identity if it came up again, but would spare no more thought towards him and his distractions. He decided on this as he scaled the staircase and turned to where Ryoma had stood the night before.

He wasn't there.

Xander let out a long breath, though he couldn't say if it was from relief or disappointment. He hated that he honestly didn't know, but that didn't matter anymore. The test was done. He could put Ryoma out of his mind now.

He sensed someone behind him, and he stiffened, every muscle preparing to lash out. A hand found his, and their palms pressed together as their fingers linked. He could feel rough callouses rubbing against his own. Ryoma—now he realized who he was—leaned forward and chuckled in his ear. "I said two. Do Nohrians not know how to count?"

That affront against his country should have annoyed him, but he was far too focused on Ryoma's breathing in his ear, how he fought the urge to close his eyes and lean into it. "I know how to count, I was just testing."

"Testing what?"

"You."

Ryoma hummed in Xander's ear. The sound shivered down his spine. Xander squeezed Ryoma's hand. "Did I pass?"

"It wasn't a matter of passing or failing."

Ryoma tilted his head. His wild spikes of hair brushed against Xander's face as he pressed his lips against his neck. "And what was it a matter of?"

"Not important," Xander said, beginning to turn around, slowly, tracing his path on the floor with his toe. His hand remained in Ryoma's.

Ryoma didn't seem to want to separate, his lips tracing Xander's skin, still as he moved, breathing against his neck. "I'll ask later," he muttered. 

Xander was now facing forward, twisting his wrist so their hands stayed linked. Ryoma's thumb moved against his, pressing hard, rubbing a band of heat against him. Ryoma looked up at him, smirked a bit, and pushed him back, a hand on his chest, wrapped in the chain of the necklace. "Ryoma," Xander started, his name stuttering as his back hit the wall.

"Marx," Ryoma responded, grabbing Xander's hair and pushing him into a kiss. He wasn't slow, there was no lead in. He was there, his tongue in Xander’s mouth, stealing his breath, and Xander was just expected to just lean back and take it. Xander groaned, grabbed Ryoma's arm, kissed him back with as much force as he could match. It was difficult though, with Ryoma's hand in his hair holding him exactly where Ryoma wanted him, with Ryoma pushing forward like he'd push against an army. Xander pulled away to breathe, and Ryoma pulled him back down into another kiss.

When they pulled away again, Ryoma breathed only for a second before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to Xander's neck. He tugged on Xander's hair, but Xander was already tilting his head back so he could reach more of his skin. "No marks," Xander muttered.

"Of course," Ryoma muttered against his neck. "But if I tease you with teeth?"

Xander squeezed Ryoma's hand. "That's fine," he said, and his eyes fluttered closed when his teeth scraped against his pulse. It felt odd to just be lying back, to just be letting Ryoma do what he wanted. When they were kissing, Xander was at least participating, but now he was just moaning and gasping while Ryoma entertained himself (and he could feel Ryoma's smile every so often, a smug, triumphant thing).

Ryoma moved back in for a kiss, pushing their bodies together. Xander must've been sensitive from before, because he couldn't help rolling his hips into Ryoma's with a groan. Ryoma pulled back, moaning softly as well. "Sorry," Xander said. 

"Only apologize if you didn't want me to continue." Ryoma pressed his hips against Xander's, looked up at him and waited.

It was one thing to be making out with someone in the dark hallway. It was another thing to grind against Ryoma like a horny teenager. Anyone could walk in on them, out in the open like they were, with only the faintest shadows to hide them. It was inappropriate, and they were both too old to do something like that. 

But Ryoma was looking up at him with darkened pupils. He wasn't sure if he was just hopefully imagining the hard press of Ryoma's erection through his pants or if Ryoma really was getting hard from the little they did. "Gods, I'm an idiot," Xander muttered as he grabbed Ryoma's hair and pulled him into a kiss, rocking his hips into Ryoma's. Ryoma let his hand go—they had been holding hands that entire time, Xander realized—and grabbed Xander's hip, the other cupped behind his neck. He held Xander there, pressed against him, and ground their hips together.

They weren't really kissing at that point. Xander, focused on keeping a rhythm, focused on matching Ryoma, found himself almost shamefully sensitive. He wasn't used to the situation at all. He had had sex before, with only one person, his old retainer Hephaestion. He had been a teenager then, seventeen, awkward and fumbling. It wasn't a close affair. Hephaestion was well aware of his station, never took control and always let Xander do what he wanted, always smiled at him when it was over like it was the best thing he could've done. After his death, Xander hadn't bothered with anyone else. 

And Xander had never thought of himself as someone who needed sex, needed that release. But Ryoma's hips against his were almost too much, too much stimulation, too good, and he panted in Ryoma's mouth, fought to keep that rhythm constant, wondered distantly if he'd be able to keep himself from coming in his pants (that'd ruin the fabric). Ryoma was breathing heavily too, and stopped attempting to kiss Xander altogether, and just stared up at him, pupils blown black. His eyes looked like a storm, the gray more prominent in the dark, but still earthy brown. Xander couldn’t look away.

There was a commotion on the staircase, two women laughing and talking loudly. Ryoma stopped suddenly, still pressed against Xander. Neither of them moved. They should've, because while they were unseen at the moment, pressed in the shadows, if the women turned their way, their position would be awkward, pressed flush together, clothes and hair a mess. Depending on who it was, they might demand they unmask and shame them that way for their dishonorable conduct. Xander would. Xander held his breath, hoping they wouldn't turn their direction.

They walked away, and Ryoma sighed and rested his forehead against Xander's shoulder. The mask felt hard and heavy. "That was far too close," he muttered.

"Indeed." He ran his hand through his hair as Ryoma stepped back, away from him. He tried to settle his breathing, tried to compose himself. He realized that Ryoma hadn't left yet. He opened his eyes, found Ryoma watching him still. "What is it?"

Ryoma blinked, startled, then shook his head. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Xander raised an eyebrow, realized he wouldn't see it under the mask, and instead said: "Really? You seemed quite distracted."

"You're quite distracting," Ryoma said, confidently, but with red cheeks and he didn't look over at him.

"Well don't get any ideas. You nearly made me come in my pants."

Ryoma looked back at him and took a step forward. Xander held up his hand and pushed against Ryoma's shoulder as Ryoma reached for his hips again, pulling on the chains. "That isn't exactly something you should say if you want me to stop."

"Do you have something against my clothes?"

"Well I'd prefer if you weren't wearing them."

Xander scoffed. "We’ve only known each other for two nights, barely even an hour altogether."

Ryoma clicked his tongue. "And yet…" He leaned forward, and Xander found himself letting Ryoma press their lips together in an almost chaste kiss.

"You're incorrigible," Xander muttered.

"Perhaps," Ryoma said, and moved to lean on the wall next to Xander. "But you've proven yourself the most interesting person here, so I doubt I’d find myself elsewhere.”

“On what basis am I interesting? This is our third conversation, and they’ve hardly been cordial.” Before Ryoma could try to defend himself, Xander scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "It seems to me that you’ve read too many fairy tales."

"Do Nohrian fairy tales often have stories of men stealing kisses in the dark?"

"You've stolen more than kisses."

"And given it in return."

"And no, that isn't the subject. Why are we talking about this?"

"I figured we both needed a distraction," he said, gesturing with his hand at waist height, at their erections. "And getting you on this topic certainly isn't attractive. Please tell me more about these Nohrian fairy tales that I’m playing into."

Xander scoffed, but stayed. “People get caught in the idea of a thrill and think it’s genuine. They get attached to an idea and expect it to last. I know you’re finding this hard to wrap your head around, so I’ll be sure to spell it out clearly for you: Don't get attached to people at a masque, Ryoma. We're all liars here."

“All of us?”

“You didn’t pursue me for any genuine interest. You did it because you needed to let go and I am an exotic Nohrian.”

Ryoma stiffened. “That’s—”

“True? I’m not taking it personally, Ryoma. I dragged you back for the same reason. I wanted to get a bit of relaxation. In fact, I’m here right now because I’m using you as a cheap thrill.” Xander tugged and straightened the already straight edge of his sleeve. “And when you get down to it, the fairy tales capture that aspect perfectly. That is simply what masquerades are. A thrill in a mask. Though I don’t condone this method.”

“Even if you indulged in it,” Ryoma said, then sighed. 

“I also don’t expect it to last after this.”

“I hate to admit you’re right. I don’t much like the wordplay you’re using.”

Xander shrugged. It was true, so what did it matter?

“But it is just a matter of us using each other.” He was silent, then pushed forward again. “Though is it too much to hope that we’d be able to have an actual conversation?”

"Why bother? We aren't comparable," Xander said, remembering all of his interactions with Ryoma in the past. "You are Hoshidan, I am Nohrian. We cannot find common ground. Not here, not past this." It stung to admit, but the masquerade didn’t seem like it could work. Decades of hatred couldn’t be overcome with plaster.

“I suppose not,” Ryoma said, sighing. Xander stared at him, trying to figure out why he looked so discontent with that. It wasn’t about their countries, Xander figured, but he didn’t know what he was thinking about. "I suppose then that we won't be doing this again."

"We won't, I am sure," Xander said. He turned to Ryoma and held out his hand. Ryoma seemed startled by the gesture, and Xander couldn't help grinning. "Come now, we've had our tongues down each other's throats and this throws you off?"

Ryoma glared at him (glared seemed too harsh, considering how often Prince Xander received his venomous looks from Prince Ryoma, and the look he gave Marx was one was all irritation and no weight, glare in name only). Ryoma took Xander's hand and squeezed. "Marx," was all Ryoma said. No form of goodbye, no defining how they were ending it.

Xander squeezed Ryoma's hand back and said "Ryoma," because saying anything else felt like lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, that's totally the end. The rest of the fic is just costume porn. Ignore those tags.  
> (next chapter will be the start of the nsfw)


	4. The Third Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your name I'll never know  
> as we get down in a world below.   
> Caught up in an overflow.  
> My hands/Your bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will be nsfw from here on out (and by extension, far, far longer). Enjoy sex written by someone with no experience.

When Xander walked into the dining area with his retainers, he only saw Camilla, no one else. The Hoshidans must've fully settled into the long nights of the masque, because Xander didn't see any of them until late in the afternoon. Of course, the Hoshidan he did see was Ryoma, which was less than convenient. They might've agreed to go their separate ways, but that did not change the first two nights. Weakness, Xander reminded himself, just a weakness. And like all weaknesses, he patched that weakness and hid it away and pushed forward.

But when he saw Ryoma training with Kamui in the courtyard, he stood by and watched instead of passing on, instead of doing his duties. He realized he hadn't seen Ryoma fight in years. When they were children, they sparred, pressured by their family. That had ended when they were teenagers, and neither of them had bothered to spar on their own time whenever they met. Xander knew that Ryoma had grown into an incredible soldier and swordsman, his infamy known even in Nohr, but Xander had no frame of reference.

Not that sparring with his sister gave Xander the best idea of Ryoma’s strength. He held back when he sparred with his siblings, and surely Ryoma did the same. But Xander could tell enough, could see his skill. Ryoma’s stance was solid, grounded, strong, but he flipped back with ease when Kamui stabbed forward. There was clearly near two decades of practice in his form to make every move so effortless. He was still clearly holding back, pausing each beat, letting Kamui see his openings. 

He eventually disarmed Kamui, held the blade at Kamui's throat, kept it there for two breaths. Then he smiled and let his sword fall and touched her arm. "Excellent."

Kamui beamed, then noticed Xander standing on the sidelines. "Oh, Prince Xander!" She curtsied, despite not wearing a skirt. Ryoma's amusement faded and he glowered at Xander.

Xander stepped forward and inclined his head. "Princess. That was quite impressive." 

She laughed and blushed. "Well, I still have a long way to go."

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Ryoma asked, sounding like Xander being here was incredibly inconvenient. 

"Nohr is hosting this event, and as crown prince it is my duty to make sure that everyone has been properly accommodated. Have you two been enjoying yourselves?"

"Well enough," Ryoma said, like he hadn't had his tongue down Xander's throat, hadn't been moaning in his mouth, hadn't been all smiles and flirtations. That wasn't something Xander wanted to think about.

Kamui was more amicable. She had always been the easiest to talk to. "It's been amazing. I've been enjoying myself a lot. I've been spending a lot of time with princess Azura, mostly because I can't find anyone else…"

"Well I'm glad my sister can entertain you. I'm certainly grateful that you aren't taking out your frustration on each other."

"No, no, the masquerade is wonderful! Ryoma definitely has been enjoying himself."

Ryoma gave a noncommittal grunt, staring off to the side.

"We just train together. Like you do with Azura! She told me that you're the strongest person she knows."

Ryoma scoffed. Kamui immediately tried to go on the defensive, but Xander was already turning towards him. "Is there something funny, Ryoma?"

Ryoma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I seem to remember you losing to every fight we had when we were children."

"Beg pardon? Did I knock you upside the head too much all those years ago? I will say that I had lost fights before—I am not as much of a moron to boast foolhardily—but every fight?"

"You were shaky and scattered."

"More memory problems," Xander said, ignoring that when they had sparred he was a shy, anxious child and everyone (Father) watching him shook his grip.

"Are you saying you've improved?"

"I am a paladin of Nohr. I could rinse you on horseback."

"But on your feet, you'll stumble and fall." 

"Or with a handicap, we'd be evenly matched."

Ryoma barked out a laugh. "Really?"

"Shall we test that?"

Ryoma pointed with his katana at a rack of dull practice swords. "By all means, take up a sword and let's test that."

Xander brushed past Kamui and her desperate attempts to placate them and approached the rack. There were mostly Nohrian swords, Hoshidan katana mostly there for show. Xander picked up a one handed sword, tested its weight and put it back. He was used to exclusively using Siegfried as his sword, used to a long, heavy blade. He picked up a great sword in one hand, adjusted his grip, nodded, and turned to Ryoma. Xander took him in for a second. They were both in armor (Kamui wasn’t, he noticed, which said Ryoma wearing his armor was as conscious as Xander’s own insistence). Ryoma seemed large and bulky in that armor, but Xander had already seen how effortlessly he moved. Might’ve been a poorer quality metal than the heavy Nohrian plates. But then again, they were both carrying dulled swords. "Are we doing a points system?"

Ryoma shrugged, took up a stance. "Until there is a winner."

"Ten paces?"

"No need, Saizo will call."

Saizo, meditating on the sidelines, opened his eye and stared, then nodded, a quick birdlike motion. Xander turned back to Ryoma, adjusted his grip, and waited, sword out. None of them were aiming to be defensive. They both foolishly wanted the first strike. That was not how Xander was trained to fight, and not how Ryoma was either, he was sure. But still, they waited while Saizo remained motionless.

Saizo whistled and Ryoma thrust forward and Xander swung his sword harshly, all that coiled up anticipation coming loose. Ryoma stepped to the side, let Xander's sword slice by him, and stabbed towards Xander's face. Xander held up his left arm and the katana skimmed across the lion shield. He felt the quiver shake down his arm. Ryoma was strong, there was no doubting that.

Ryoma disengaged and took a few careful steps back out of Xander's reach. "Using shields is cheating," Ryoma remarked, taking slow steps around Xander.

"Then remove your armor as well, and we shall see how you fair."

The realization that Xander just told Ryoma to take his clothes off was harsh enough that he stilled and was only barely able to block Ryoma's following strike. From there, Xander was forced on the defensive, focused on blocking. Ryoma's swings were quick and precise, each brutal enough to echo down his arm. He had mastered the fluidity of motion, each step punctuated with a slash, a stab. Each strike could've killed him on the battlefield. Ryoma's blade chose him wisely. Ryoma was a thunderstorm and Xander could only stand in his way and defend.

Luckily, Xander was good at defending, and patient enough to analyze and prepare to counter.

Ryoma missed, and the tables turned. Xander was trained in unmounted swordsmanship, in the ways of mercenaries. He would never be as nimble as Laslow or Selena, could never flip as effortlessly as they did, but he made up for that in raw power, in large swings of his sword, not speedy, but more powerful than Ryoma's strikes. Ryoma blocked once, and he grimaced. Xander allowed himself to smile before he began his assault. 

Ryoma did not try to fully block him again. He dodged, parried, did not take the brunt of Xander's force against him. At one point, Xander nicked his shoulder pauldron and he stumbled, ducked under his next swing and rolled, coming up yet again to dodge Xander’s next swing. 

Ryoma wouldn’t avoid him for long. Xander knew his counterattack was coming, just waiting for an opening. Xander thought he, even with his relentless striking and wide swings, didn't leave enough time for Ryoma to retaliate, but after one dodge, Ryoma squared his stance and stabbed. Xander blocked that, but Ryoma followed up with a slash, and Xander raised his arm to deflect it off his shield. The two slashes at his stomach, however, he wasn't quick enough to block. It was only a practice sword and Xander was wearing his armor, so it didn't do much damage, but the fact that Ryoma got a hit in stun more. Ryoma drew his leg back for the last strike and kicked Xander in the stomach, then brought his sword down his shoulder, carving a line down to his opposite hip. In a real battle, it could've killed him. His armor wouldn't have saved him if Ryoma's thundering blade had cleaved him like that. 

Xander was knocked flat on his back by the force, and Ryoma stood over him, his sword pointing between his eyes. He was panting, red faced, but his smirk was annoyingly triumphant. "Yield," Ryoma commanded, and Xander suddenly realized why he liked when he was pushed against the wall at the masque.

Xander wasn't born a prince. He was made, torn apart and put together in an acceptable manner. He was a vase, painted to perfection, but if they looked inside, they'd see the imperfections, the roughness. Everything that was truly him was pushed away from the world. His shyness shamed, anxiety pushed aside, kindness smothered under a pillow (and that he fought, held true to, though only those close enough to him realized how kind he was, how brotherly he could be, and everyone else saw a stern face like a stone wall). He couldn't afford to be anything less than that. If he bent, plenty would push him to break. 

Besides, he must be Nohrian. Nohrian, the counter of Hoshidan. Cold like the long winters, brittle and harsh and unyielding against the Hoshidan summer and their prosperity. Xander remembered seeing Ryoma and his father as they walked into the throne room for the first time and Garon muttered "Do not give them an inch. Do not show weakness." Xander took that to heart, followed that all his life, another hardened layer of armor he wore.

And then Ryoma kissed him and Xander let him. Because it was so different, so against everything he should have been. A Hoshidan, a prince, pushing him against the wall, using him like he was something less than himself. And he enjoyed being lowered. And being in public, knocked on his back and cornered by Ryoma was shameful, but there was a thrill underneath it and he could enjoy this, he could enjoy Ryoma.

"Yield," Xander said, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. He pushed the sword away and stood. Ryoma barely moved aside, and they brushed a bit. They both had armor on. It wasn't a real touch. But he felt it burn all the same. "It seems you aren't all talk."

"It seems as though you don't live up to your boasts."

"You were the one boasting. And you're panting too much to claim your victory to be effortless." Xander walked away from him to the small crowd that gathered. He felt distant all throughout the rest of the day, thinking, planning and it wasn't until he was sitting at his desk and dismissed his retainers that he actually felt like himself again. Himself, meaning that he was in his body again. What he was planning was not himself at all.

Xander sighed and leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. This was a masquerade. Whatever happened wasn’t actually him. Or it was truly him, just could never be used against him. Either way, Xander wanted it.

Xander raised his hand and opened his mouth and slipped two fingers in. He pushed the pads of his fingers against his tongue, pushed his tongue against his fingers, slid his fingers down his throat. He choked, felt heat, his stomach contracting. He thought "Ryoma" and pushed deeper.

\---

Xander kept to his schedule. Arrive early, mingle, drink. What happened after would be different. He'd be waiting for Ryoma. He’d approach him and invite him back upstairs. And Ryoma will either refuse him or indulge him. Xander thought he might follow Xander, but he wasn't sure. Xander dressed as sharply as he could, hoping to impress Ryoma in some way.

Not that he knew what Ryoma liked. He just searched for his wardrobe for something with a similar design as Ryoma had chosen the previous nights. Something with a bolder pattern. Not Xander's preference, but it could catch Ryoma’s attention, if he was looking. The jacket was black, with rose petals of the deepest purple falling down the back and gathering at his waist. His shirt was lighter purple, covered by a black vest so it became a colorful accent instead of overpowering it. The pants were simple, straight black. He wore the scuffed shoes from the night before. He wore a slim black tie, because he couldn't stand to not wear anything there.

Xander had never dressed for someone before. He had outfits arranged to impress others, but he had never personally wanted to impress anyone. It was an odd feeling, and when Peri saw his outfit, she looked confused and tilted her head and blinked owlishly. 

Time passed, the ball bloomed around him. Xander pulled at the ends of his sleeves. He looked at the entrance almost constantly now. The people arriving now were fashionably late, and now was the accepted time to come. He saw Leo make his way in at that time, Odin causing a commotion behind him while Leo pretended he didn't know him. Most likely, the others would come in as well. The Hoshidans didn't have the obligation to entertain and smooth relations, so they would've come in on their own time as guests. Xander spotted every sibling and a few retainers before he saw Ryoma. 

Ryoma, dressed subtler than usual, no overt patterns, just a bold red jacket over a white shirt. He wore a tie, red with the golden sun of Hoshido on the end. His hair was not tied back this time. Xander felt overdressed, but he shook that thought off, and stared as Ryoma walked forward, not even looking in the crowd, not searching for blond men or lion masks. He must've taken their conversation seriously. Which meant that Xander had to do the legwork. Which meant he had to think everything over.

Xander planned like he was planning a battle, considering every angle, every possible outcome. Their flirtations started with dances, but Xander couldn't do that tonight, not when what he wanted was sex. And after their conversation, it'd lead to more questions that didn't have an answer suitable for public. He'd have to convince Ryoma to go with him back up to their spot in the darkness in one motion, no need for conversation, no room for Ryoma to even say his name.

He had an idea, something more flirtatious than he was comfortable acting out. But this was a masque, and he could play the part. He searched the room, found Ryoma talking to a Hoshidan, noble by the look of him. Xander stood in Ryoma's peripheral and waited for him to notice Xander.

He didn't.

Xander sighed, drank, and walked forward, through the crowd. As he approached Ryoma, he raised his hand, slid his fingers along the small of his back, just above his waistband. He dragged his fingers across the entire length of his back, too long to be accidental. Ryoma turned to look at Xander as he passed, startled. Xander took three steps before he turned around, saw Ryoma's face. He was first confused, then he recognized Xander and a flush started under his mask, and he just stared. Xander smirked and tilted his head, then walked away. Xander walked up the stairs to their usual spot, hearing Ryoma walk behind him. It wasn't ideal for both of them to leave at the same time, the ever vigilant voice in his head muttered, but Xander paid more attention to the heat in his core, to the fact he could feel his blood pumping 'yes yes yes'.

Xander turned around, and Ryoma stopped as well. Ryoma stared at him, and he was very much the high prince in his guarded look. "Awfully forward of you," Ryoma said.

"Yes."

"Especially since you seemed insistent on ending our lesions last night."

"Yes, well," Xander paused, wished he had brought a glass of wine with him so he'd have something to fiddle with, some sort of distraction while he thought. He needed to make sure Ryoma stayed. After thinking, he sighed and met Ryoma’s eyes again, smiled a bit. "I found you harder to put out of mind then I originally thought."

Ryoma blinked, then relaxed. "Oh?"

"Of course. Your…" Xander paused, let the silence stretch and when he spoke again, he put enough emphasis on the next word so it felt like an innuendo, " _company_ is quite enjoyable."

It worked. Ryoma stepped into his space. "And what company are you talking about?"

"Well, certainly not your dancing," Xander said, tapping his calf with his toe.

Ryoma looked down, looked back up at Xander, and then quickly back down at Xander's foot, covering his mouth to hide his grin. "Gods, you're wearing that damn scuffed shoe."

"I told you I would."

"You did," Ryoma said, shaking his head. His eyes were sparking, and whatever hesitance he had when he followed Xander was gone. "You certainly are spiteful."

"I am," Xander said, smirking down at Ryoma. He reached out and grabbed Ryoma's arm and squeezed. Ryoma looked down at his hand, then back up at Xander. Xander’s mouth felt dry. "May I have the pleasure of your company?"

Ryoma smirked and tilted his head to the side. The two strands of his bangs fell against his mask. Xander didn't know why he stared at it (probably because of what he was planning made him hypersensitive to Ryoma's presence). "Convince me," he said.

Xander slid his hand up Ryoma's arm, over his shoulder, behind his neck. Ryoma tilted his head back stared up at Xander almost challengingly. Ryoma filled the role of high prince so effortlessly, even here. He slipped into that easily, born to rule even in this situation. He fit it far easier than Xander did.

He pushed down against Ryoma's lips. He moved slower than Ryoma did when he instigated their kisses, but there wasn't any hesitation, his hand pressed against Ryoma's neck so it'd arch, pressing closer so they shared warmth. The promise of more. A promise Ryoma seemed eager to receive, kissing back. He deepened the kiss and Xander began to push him back, against the wall. Ryoma grunted and broke the kiss when his back hit the wall. "Well this is different," Ryoma said, his hands sliding up Xander's arms, like he was going to twist him, flip him against the wall. 

Xander would've enjoyed that, but not now. He curled his fingers around Ryoma's shoulders, pushed him back and held him there. "I'm not done convincing you."

Ryoma chuckled, pushed up into another kiss, his hands moving from Xander's arms to his chest. When they pulled away, Ryoma ran his finger against Xander's lip to break the saliva connecting them. "Consider me convinced."

"Not thoroughly enough for my tastes," Xander said, pushing Ryoma back against the wall. He bent his head down and kissed Ryoma's neck. Ryoma stilled at the touch, then began to shiver as Xander moved his lips and tongue over his skin. He seemed extraordinarily sensitive. It made sense, considering how he wore armor all the time. Xander had the same sensitive spots where he was normally untouchable (his sides, especially, his stomach, his thighs, less so his back but it could very easily). Ryoma seemed like he was more active than Xander, but Xander wondered if he let people touch him there, if they even considered it a possibility. He doubted it, considering Ryoma's quiet breaths, considering he was rocking his hips in tiny little motions just because Xander pulled his collar down and was licking his neck. 

Xander pulled away and Ryoma tugged him down onto his lips, wrapped his arm around Xander and pulled him to his chest. Xander could feel Ryoma's erection against him. Good, good enough. Xander pulled back, scraping his teeth against Ryoma's lip, and fell down onto his knees. He began to undo Ryoma's belt when Ryoma put his hands overtop Xander's, stopping him. "Whoa, whoa. Marx. What are you doing?"

"Is this not done in Hoshido?" Xander looked up at Ryoma.

Ryoma's face was flushed, his eyes wide. "No, no, it's certainly done. I'm just wondering why you're doing it."

"Isn't it obvious?" Xander pressed his lips against Ryoma's crotch. 

Ryoma shivered, pushing against Xander's head. "Marx, wait. Wait. Isn't this moving too fast?"

"I'm sorry, didn't you try to make me come in my pants last night?"

"And we almost got caught."

"And I find that I don't care about that."

Ryoma blinked and hesitated, and the flush spread further. Xander glanced at Ryoma's crotch, saw he was still hard, even through their argument. Xander moved his hands, undid his pants, and looked up again. Ryoma sighed, stroked Xander's cheek. "Go ahead."

"You don't sound too excited," Xander said as he undid Ryoma's pants, tugged the belt out of its loops and out of the way. His hands shook a bit as he pulled Ryoma's pants down, anxiety pricking at his stomach, with none of the thrill that he wanted.

"Oh, don’t worry, I am," Ryoma groaned as Xander rubbed Ryoma's dick with his thumbs through his boxers (how much convincing did he have to have in order to wear Nohrian smallcothes?). "I am very excited. You are both my bane and my pleasure."

Xander swallowed, not sure what to make of that. Ryoma's hands were tangled in his hair. He was looking down at Xander, face flushed, mouth open as he panted. The angle wasn't too different from the morning, but Ryoma felt honest. Xander bit his lip and tugged Ryoma's boxers down, easing Ryoma's erection out. Ryoma muttered something, too quiet to hear. Or maybe Xander couldn’t hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. 

Xander pumped him a couple times until he was fully hard, then fit the head into his mouth. It was far heavier and broader than fingers, tasted different too. Xander could see Ryoma’s thumb bumping over his mask. He probably meant to be rubbing his cheekbone. He stretched his mouth wider, lapped at the underside of Ryoma's dick, eased more and more into his mouth. Ryoma muttered something about breathing. That was the last thing he wanted. Xander pushed deeper, gagging when it touched his throat. 

"Easy, Marx," Ryoma muttered, drawing Xander back. "Don't hurt yourself."

Xander ignored him. He didn't have a strong gag reflex, only if he wasn't paying much attention or had severely underestimated the difference between fingers and an actual erection. It felt good though, the sting shocking down his body, curling around his dick. He wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He bobbed his head a couple times, pushed Ryoma's dick into his throat and gagged again.

Ryoma pulled Xander back. "Marx, Marx, stop."

It didn’t work. Xander pulled back, wiped his mouth, looked down at the floor. Gods, what was he thinking? He was a damned fool, caught up silly ideas, ideas that he should’ve never entertained in first place. He was above this. Why did he even think that he'd be able to get this far? Why did he think that Ryoma would indulge him? Why was he even doing this? 

Ryoma tugged Xander's arm and he stood, sighing. "Do you mind telling me why you're so eager to choke yourself on my dick?" Ryoma asked.

Xander laughed. Hearing Ryoma say that, so serious despite his pants down his legs, cock out and still hard, was completely ridiculous. "The easiest thing would be to say that I'm using you. As we seem to do in this relationship."

"Marx."

"I have an image of perfection to uphold in my station. I am not allowed a moment of weakness or else be seen as weak and thus someone who isn’t worthy of his position. Everyone, including myself, keeps careful watch to make sure I am perfection. It wears, but I hadn't realized until very recently." Xander glanced at Ryoma, saw his face blank and serious, looked away again. "This position is not something I'm entirely comfortable with at times, but it is my burden to bear and mine alone. And I was fine—no, I am fine with that. But until very recently, until this masque, I didn't realize how much a relief it would be to not be me for a moment, to be with someone who didn’t know me. And alongside that, how it would feel to be lowered and made submissive outside the view of people who would take advantage of that. And I have to thank you and your unique form of stress relief for that.

“There is something shameful about all of this, in the way that I could never tell anyone. You are Hoshidan. No matter the brand of peace our countries wear, there is enough tension that would shame my family should it be discovered. The fact that I was on my knees in front of you, well that's even worse. And being so eager for it that I was purposefully choking myself?” Xander laughed and shook his head. “Everything about this is wrong. Which is what makes it so appealing."

Xander spread his arms. "Here I am, Nohrian, on my knees for you, Hoshidan, sucking your cock and choking on it. It could ruin me, but there is no one here but you. And you're the one doing the ruining."

Ryoma just stared at him. "You," Ryoma started, words slow and measured, "want to be lowered where there is no consequence."

"Yes."

"Ah. Well, I don't feel entirely comfortable letting you choke yourself like that."

"I figured," Xander said, started to turn and walk away.

"However," he took Xander's chin in his hand and held him still. Xander's eyes widened. Ryoma brushed his thumb over Xander's bottom lip, gently pushing down so his mouth opened. "I think I can indulge you in another way."

Somehow, Ryoma wanted to stay with him, even after what he said. Ryoma’s pupils were dark, the white somehow making his eyes bright. He looked eager, eager for him. Xander's heart pounded, and he could feel the blood rushing into his crotch already. His skin felt alight with sparks. "Oh?"

"It will get you what you want, but gives me a bit more freedom. And when I'm in control, I can control how much you get. That’s what’s important to me, knowing that you can take what I can give you, that you’re not just hurting yourself because that’s what you need. Does that make sense? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Xander said, and the words hissed past his teeth.

“Good. Now…" Ryoma let his chin go, smirking when Xander held the position. "On your knees," Ryoma ordered, and Xander did without hesitation. "Open your mouth and relax your jaw." Xander did, and Ryoma ran his thumb down his jaw. "Good. Breathe and relax." Ryoma pumped his dick and Xander watched him gradually become hard again. Xander kept his mouth open, waiting. Ryoma hadn't told him to close it. Ryoma looked down at him, looked like he was going to say something, then shook his head. He cupped Xander's cheek and eased the head of his dick into Xander's mouth. He didn't move any further just held it there, against his tongue. Xander wanted him to move, or move himself. "Now tap my leg twice if you need me to stop. Do it now." Xander rolled his eyes and did so. "Good," and Ryoma rocked his hips into Xander's mouth. He kept a hand on Xander's head, holding him still as he moved slowly, small thrusts just to get Xander looked to the idea of movement.

Xander had planned to lower himself, on his own terms, but this was far better. He was entirely passive, just sitting back while Ryoma moved. Ryoma thrust a bit deeper, the head of his cock pushing into his throat. He didn’t expect that. Xander choked, grabbed the fabric of Ryoma's pants. He did not tap. He looked up at Ryoma and waited for more. Ryoma stroked his hair and thrust twice before pulling back. Xander curled his fingers into the fabric, stared up at Ryoma through watering eyes. It was already better, already starting to gather heat. When Ryoma started thrusting again, Xander moaned around his dick. Xander felt Ryoma shiver, heard him curse, and Ryoma held Xander's head with both hands. Ryoma began thrusting again, a quick steady rhythm. It burned Xander's throat, but he didn't choke anymore. The ache only made it feel better, made his heart pound so loudly he could barely hear anything else.

"Have you done this before?" Ryoma suddenly asked, pausing mid-thrust, his dick just in his throat. His hands were still holding Xander's head. Xander didn't know how Ryoma expected him to answer. "Blink once for yes, twice for no."

Ah, that was how. Xander slowly blinked twice.

"Really?" He rolled his hips a little and Xander closed his eyes and shivered. "I never would've guessed. You are incredible like this. You're doing wonderful." Ryoma brushed some of Xander's hair out of his face.

Xander appreciated it, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Ryoma was being too nice about everything. He scraped his teeth against Ryoma's dick and he shuddered and moaned in response.

"Ah, but you want something different," Ryoma said, holding Xander's head and thrusting again. Xander moaned around Ryoma as his eyes started to water. "You might've been made for this. Made to take it. Take me, specifically. I can't think of anyone else fit for this."

Ryoma continued thrusting and Xander dug his fingers into Ryoma’s pants. He wasn’t actively gagging around Ryoma’s cock, but it still stung each time it entered. He blinked and tears fell down under the mask. It still felt good though. Ryoma hadn’t looked away from him once, meeting Xander’s gaze. He was panting, his fingers twitched as they were wrapped in his hair. He looked good like that, Xander thought. 

Ryoma began thrusting deeper and Xander tapped Ryoma's thigh. The burn was starting to sting too much, more pain than pleasure. Ryoma pulled back and stroked Xander's hair. "You alright, Marx?"

Xander took a couple shaking breaths. "I'm fine," he started, tried to say, but his voice came out hoarse. Xander cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he repeated, still shaky but in a tone he felt was better. He looked up at Ryoma and forced a smile so he wouldn’t look so concerned. "It's a bit different from fingers, but it's easy to get used to."

"And what do you mean by that?" Ryoma asked, moving his hand to grip Xander's hair. His voice was wrecked too, and he didn't have anything down his throat.

Xander tilted his head back against Ryoma's hand and smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know." Xander leaned back down and wrapped his lips around Ryoma's head, gave a brief suck, and let his mouth fall back open. Ryoma took the cue and resumed thrusting, deeper this time. Xander immediately gagged and his eyes watered. There was no gentle lead in this time. Ryoma didn't stop though, and at the next thrust, Xander moaned around Ryoma.

Ryoma seemed to finally, finally, understand what Xander wanted, what he could handle. It was only too bad that Ryoma didn't seem like he'd last long. He could hear him repeat "Marx" with every breath he took, could taste precum when Ryoma pulled back enough. It was probably for the best. He was achingly hard, and Ryoma wasn't even doing anything for him, just using him.

"Marx," Ryoma said, stilling his hips, "you're going to want to pull away."

After the abuse on his throat, Ryoma expected him to pull out? Xander moved on his own, sliding down Ryoma's length until his nose was pressed against his crotch. Ryoma's hands shook against his hair. Xander closed his eyes, breathed through his nose, and swallowed around Ryoma's cock. Ryoma gasped and came down Xander's throat. 

Xander wouldn't say that he had the most concrete plans tonight. But he didn't regret any of them up to that moment. He severely underestimated how much cum there would be, how it would taste, and how it would feel down his throat. Xander pulled back a bit, but not too far, a slightly rational thought telling him that he did not want cum in his hair or on his clothes. Xander's mouth was filled and he tried desperately tried to swallow it all. When Ryoma was spent, leaning against the wall and panting, Xander pulled back and spat what was left onto the tile, coughing. He saw Ryoma shift, tuck himself back into his pants, and move towards Xander. Xander held up his hand and pulled out a handkerchief, turning away from Ryoma and wiping his face underneath the mask, cleaning off the sweat and tears. Thankfully, Ryoma didn't push. Xander put the handkerchief down and turned back to Ryoma. "Okay—" he started and Ryoma knelt down and kissed him. Xander pushed on his chest until he broke apart. "I taste horrible," Xander warned.

"I don't care," Ryoma said and kissed him again, pushing his tongue into Xander's mouth. Gods, he was shameless. Xander fisted Ryoma's coat and held on, moaning into Ryoma's mouth. Ryoma's hand slid up his thigh and cupped his crotch. Xander gasped and Ryoma chuckled, rubbing him slowly. "You're already this hard just from giving me a blowjob? That’s really quite impressive. And a bit flattering," Ryoma teased, mouthing Xander’s neck.

"You don't," Xander started, gasping, before his throat closed.

"Do you think I'm so cruel as to be the only one satisfied? Now, help me unbutton these damn Nohrian pants or I'll make you come like this." He squeezed Xander's erection for emphasis.

"Gods, please don't," Xander rasped, his throat still raw. He pushed Ryoma's hand away and undid his pants. Ryoma hummed in approval as Xander pulled his erection out and Xander flushed. "Oh, shut up."

"You might sound a bit more threatening if your voice didn't sound like that," Ryoma said as he took Xander's cock in his hand and began to pump him, a fast rhythm, intending to bring him off hard and fast. "It sounds wonderful though. Your voice sounds good wrecked by me. It's the way it should be."

Xander grabbed Ryoma and pulled him into a kiss, panting into his mouth. He rocked his hips into Ryoma's hand, and he didn't care that it made him look desperate, he just wanted it to continue. Seven years, he realized, seven years since there was someone else touching him, seven years since he had wanted someone to touch him so badly. Ryoma’s hand was burning on his cock. His callouses scraped against Xander, but it felt so good, so good.

Xander wished he could've lasted longer, but he pulled away and muttered. "Get the handkerchief Ryoma."

Ryoma rubbed his thumb against the head of Xander's dick. "Why? You're fine like this."

"I am not coming over the floor," Xander growled, and Ryoma laughed and grabbed the handkerchief, holding it over Xander's dick. Xander didn't last much longer and pulled Ryoma into a kiss to muffle his moans as he came. 

Spent, Xander panted, tilting his head back. Ryoma layered his throat with open mouth kisses until Xander cleared his throat and nudged Ryoma back. Xander straightened his outfit, tucked himself back into his pants, and Ryoma held up the handkerchief. "I guess I'll throw this out."

"Throw it out? That's perfectly good, fine fabric you're wasting. I'll get it washed later." Xander meant to reach for it, but he moved too slowly, and Ryoma nodded.

"Yeah, I'll do that," Ryoma said, folding the handkerchief, then looking back at Xander. "Your face is entirely red."

"Have you no shame?" Xander said, almost harsh enough that he dipped back into his normal tone.

"I don't see what the problem is."

"For one, that's mine."

"Ah, but you gave it to me—"

"I told you to take it so I wouldn't cum on the floor."

"—so I believe that there is a Nohrian custom just for something like this. One that brings good fortune correct?"

"You are not using my cum-stained handkerchief as a favor!"

Ryoma laughed and stood. He tucked the handkerchief in his pocket. It seemed like he couldn’t be convinced. He offered Xander his hand and helped him to his feet. When Xander was standing as well, Ryoma put his hand behind Xander's head. Xander expected another kiss, but Ryoma just held him, standing close. "Can I expect you tomorrow, Marx?"

The answer should've been no. He had been lowered, had felt what it was like, could feel the stress from the masquerade preparation fading away. Xander had his fun, had taken what he wanted and in the process showed more weakness than he ever should've shown to those he trusted, let alone someone who might as well have been an enemy. But Xander felt heat stirring inside him at the thought of Ryoma with him again, and the anxiety that prickled at his stomach was like what he experienced during a battle. Xander raised his hand and traced his finger down Ryoma’s knuckles. He pressed his hand closer and tilted his head to kiss Ryoma’s wrist, smirking against his skin. "Only if you make it worth my while."


	5. The Fourth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downtown we let it go;  
> sunset high and our bodies low.  
> Blood rush in a hazy glow.  
> My hands, your bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wordcount jumped because that's what happens when I write sex. Whoops. Chapters are all going to be around 20 pages now.

Xander drank three cups of tea at breakfast and gave nearly his siblings a heart attack when he spoke and his voice rasped. "You never get colds," Leo said with far too much wonder.

"There's always a first," Xander said, his voice raw. He stirred honey into his tea. "There are a lot of people here. A bug is certain to travel quickly."

"Well don't give it to me," Elise said, pulling her food close to her, forming a barrier against the bug. Then she got more serious and kicked at his leg under the table. "And take care of yourself. Take it easy."

Xander hummed, sipped his tea, and thought of all the things he had to do. He wasn't sick, even though getting his throat fucked by Ryoma wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd sanely do. If he had known there'd be consequences in the morning, he'd have dismissed that thought immediately. It couldn’t worth the concern he was getting, all the attention over what they thought was a cold.

Except he couldn't deny that it was worth it. Worth it for Ryoma's hands in his hair, holding him still. Worth it for Ryoma commanding him. Worth it for the burn and ache. Worth it for what he was feeling now, that hidden secret that it was the Hoshidan prince that caused it. He just didn't know where he wanted to go from here, where he could afford to go.

But that was a matter for the night. Xander went through his duties, though he did limit his list to just the servants so his voice wouldn't be overworked, and relented to frequent tea breaks just to calm his retainers. He was talking to one of the servants, figuring out the traffic of people who were getting rooms or any other services when Ryoma approached. Xander's pulse skyrocketed and he felt his face start to heat up. An understandable reaction, all things considered. Incredibly annoying though.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow at him. "Prince Xander?"

"I'm fighting a cold."

"I see," Ryoma said, then turned away. At least he didn't seem to recognize Xander's sore voice, despite how much he enjoyed it the previous night. Ryoma approached the servant. "I hear this is where you acquire keys for private rooms." Ryoma glanced at Xander and smirked as Xander turned completely red. "Is something the matter?"

Xander forgot himself. It was only the soreness of his throat that saved him. "When I told you to make it worth my while, I didn't mean this!" he tried to say, only got through five words before his throat closed again and he coughed into his sleeve.

Ryoma, thankfully none the wiser, just grinned. "I believe what I do in my own free time is my business." He turned to the servant and held out his hand as he placed the token into his hand. "Is there any way to get the rooms stocked beforehand?"

"The rooms are stocked with all manner of equipment to ease your stay and to refresh yourself, and two bottles of sealed wine are provided, white and red. If you are referring to personal accommodations, unfortunately, no, sir. The keys are given out randomly for your safety. You may ask for refreshments to be brought however."

Ryoma nodded, flicked the token between his fingers, then pocketed it. "That will be all then, thank you." He bowed slightly to the servant, then turned to Xander, did nothing, and walked away. Always a charming fellow.

Xander sighed, rubbed his forehead, thought of what he wanted to do next, what to do with Ryoma. They undoubtably had sex last night, but for Ryoma to ask for a room meant something else altogether, progressing into something completely different. He didn't know if he wanted that. More importantly, he didn’t know if he could keep a composed distance when the masquerade ended, or even in the morning. 

That was the most important thing. He needed to find a way to maintain that distance.

\---

Although Nohrian fashion was well known for being tighter than neighboring fashions, Xander had not worn anything this tight in his life. The lavender shirt was fitted tight against his chest, the buttons close to popping free when he moved his arms. The black vest and suspenders pushed everything even tighter, fitting his frame like a corset (which he did consider, momentarily, before he banished that thought as being too out of character). His pants were tight as well and white so every curve was that much more prominent. It hid nothing. It also made a wonderful contrast with the black of his knee length boots and the black tails of his coat. He debated whether or not he should've left his jacket open or closed, but chose to keep it buttoned just so he'd have to unbutton it later. 

It wasn't too showy, especially for a masquerade, but it was dramatic enough for him that when Laslow saw him, he stammered what was supposed to be a sentence and walked into a wall. It was also very hard to dissuade people from dancing and maintaining eye contact, everyone finding his crotch far more compelling. But he just had to entertain for until Ryoma came.

Xander wasn't watching the entrance, so he didn't see Ryoma enter. But he did see Ryoma approach when Xander was at the buffet, and he tried to hide his smirk. Ryoma put his hand on the table next to Xander's arm, blocking him in. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Why Ryoma, I don't know what you're talking about." He turned to Ryoma, smirking. Ryoma looked down, stared at his crotch for a long moment, then looked back up at Xander. Xander saw the brown of his eyes beginning to be swallowed by black. Xander let his eyes roam over Ryoma. He was back to being bold, a white jacket over a red shirt, a deep gold vest with a subtle sheen overtop of that. He was wearing a tie this time, bright white with the red Hoshidan sun embedded on it. He was wearing loose black pants, so Xander couldn't tell if he was hard, or if it was just wishful thinking (and that was starling to think, that he wanted Ryoma hard). He looked back up at Ryoma and licked his lips. 

Ryoma actually groaned at that. "Gods, Marx," Ryoma said. Xander expected him to continue, but he just shook his head. "I was going to ask for a dance and a proper conversation, but I don't think I'd be able to behave appropriately out here." He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a key. 

Xander flushed and put his hand over Ryoma's to hide it. "Ryoma, we are in public!"

"Not for long, Marx. The room number is twenty-five. I'll get something from a servant and meet you there." He pressed the key into Xander's palm.

"It'd make more sense if the positions were reversed."

"I don't think I want you out in public any longer than you need to be. People are already staring."

"Possessive are we?"

"A little, I'm afraid."

Xander hummed. He shifted his stance a bit, moved his leg so it pointed out subtly, and Ryoma looked down again. Xander smirked. "Fine then. I'll make sure this room then is fit for us." He brushed past Ryoma, his knuckles grazing his side. Xander felt Ryoma stiffen, knew that he was just barely holding himself back from grabbing Xander and kissing him right there. For all the thrills Xander had from being lowered, he found that he enjoyed the opposite, making the confident high prince slackjawed and eager.

Xander walked upstairs, keeping the key hidden in his fist, the points digging into his skin. He had a weaker constitution than he thought. He was curious, that was all, curious to see how things would progress, how it would make him feel. 

Lust was lust, nothing more.

Xander fit the key into the lock and eased the door open. The room was simply furnished—though to a commoner, the sheer quality of everything made it extravagant—just a bed, two chairs around a small round table, and a dresser. There were two sealed bottles of wine chilling with two glasses next to it. There was a pitcher of cool water, soaked with condensation on the desk. Xander checked into the adjacent washroom and found a large basin filled with water and a hefty stack of towels next to it. He moved that out into the bedroom for their use later. He checked a bunch of drawers, found perfume and other refreshers in the washroom, but in the desk, he found a tin of slick lubricant.

There was no question what the bedrooms were for, and what Ryoma expected out of him. Xander knew already, but seeing the room made it seem final, more real. Xander crossed his arms, tilted his head back, and breathed, five counts in, five counts out, kept breathing while he was still alone.

Ryoma entered, and Xander uncrossed his arms. Ryoma was carrying a tray with food on it. He smiled a little bit at Xander. "I could not get the servants to bring up sake, but I did get some scallops." 

Xander watched Ryoma set the platter down. "Why do you need sake when we have wine?"

"That's what the servants said," Ryoma complained. He sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, I don't understand how you can drink that. It's not strong at all."

"Of course not. Wine is a conversation drink. You can't have a conversation with sake as the centerpiece."

Ryoma chuckled and shook his head. "Nohrians always seem to have low tolerance. It’s disappointing."

"At least we can drink milk."

"Ah, of course. You'll get tipsy from a sip of sake, but at least you can drink cow swill without getting sick."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Open the white, it'll taste better." Xander sat and watched Ryoma. He glanced down at the buttered scallops. No silverware. "Do you mind explaining this?"

"I have grown tired of red meat. I thought this would be a nice change of pace for me." He picked up one of the scallops and took a bite. "It's still very Nohrian, but it's close enough to home."

“You could’ve asked for that on your own time.”

“Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been with wine. Even at the buffet, you had nothing but wine. I’m honestly concerned.”

That was a bit flattering. “Oh, you noticed something other than my crotch?”

“From that angle, it was your ass. I’m getting tired of talking to the plate, could you please sit down?”

"You could've gotten silverware," Xander muttered, taking a seat, and Ryoma finally raised his head. "It's appropriate, even in Hoshido."

"Not quite. You eat sushi with your hands."

Xander stopped. "Not chopsticks?"

Ryoma chuckled. "No."

"Gods, I wish you had told me earlier."

Ryoma didn't laugh, but he was grinning widely. "Are you horrible with chopsticks?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. If I had been around, I would've spared you the struggle."

Xander remembered a seven-year-old Ryoma watching Xander fumble with chopsticks and laughing about it. "I'm sure you would have." Ryoma stared at him and Xander shook his head and took a scallop. He wasn't a prince, he was Marx, with a strange masked man. "Nevertheless, I expected you to fuck me against the wall, not feed me."

"Well, we still have time for that. I'd rather talk to you, for now."

"Why?"

"Why is it such a shock to you?"

"It's in poor form to answer a question with another."

"I realize. But your answer will help me express myself. So please."

Xander sighed. "I've interacted with Hoshidans before. They do not mince words. They use exactly the amount needed to get what they say across. Pleasantries are pleasant, but never sincere. And here you are, asking for an amicable chat. It's not needed, especially considering that we’re just here to have sex."

Ryoma was silent for a long moment, then nodded. "Everything you've said is true. But you seem to be more willing to think of my people as a stone wall in human form." Ryoma picked up a scallop and ate it. "To be Hoshidan is to keep keep everything close to the chest. I try to encourage my siblings to be open with me, but it simply is not that easy. We as a nation carry everything silently. We will not be a burden to others. Friendship among tropes is common and genuine, but it can be hard to open up. For me, this situation is all the more prominent. Without this mask," he tapped against the hard plaster, "I wear another. I put duty at the forefront. Emotions come second, especially compassion. I have to be strict to the point of cruel, a model samurai for all under my command to look up to. It's what I have to do for my country."

Xander chuckled and he waved off whatever look Ryoma directed at him. "I mean no disrespect. I feel the same. I do the same. Mine isn't culturally heavy though. A situation of birth."

"Stress of your position forcing you into a box."

"Yes." For a second, Xander wanted to ask, to know, if Ryoma felt the same pressures Xander did. Unlikely, considering how easily he led and commanded, even here. He might've worn armor too, but his was vicious, forceful, a point of pride shown off rather than protection concealed.

Ryoma continued talking without Xander being able to speak. "But now, we both can relax. These masks mean that we are no longer bound by cultural obligations, by duty. We can simply be men in the company of men. And I hope that I can expect some honesty out of you tonight."

Xander chewed a scallop and thought. No, he shouldn't expect it at all. Xander would just continue lying anyway, hiding everything away. But the idea was attractive, honesty not even his siblings could experience. And after last night, being on his knees for Ryoma, his opinion couldn't possibly be lowered. So why not go further? Why not indulge Ryoma? Their relationship was a brief thing, a short experience that wouldn't matter outside the week. Honesty didn't mean closeness. He could afford it. "Go ahead."

"How often do you do this?"

“I tend to accept any invitations when they come my way, so it ends up being fairly frequently. Though for purely political reasons, not because I enjoy this.”

“Interesting, but I was interested in your sexual history.”

Xander chuckled. “Of course you would.” There was no shame in an honest answer, he thought. "In that case: Not at all. I had a sexual relationship with my…my servant. Squire. Hephaestion. That was when I was a teenager, up until I was nineteen. From then until you, nothing."

"Really? You must have had suitors. You're far too handsome."

"Thank you for complimenting half of my face."

Ryoma shrugged, not perturbed this time. "It was either that or your cock."

"Regardless, yes, I do have suitors, no, I do not have time for them." 

"It seems a shame. To only love one person."

"It wasn't," Xander started, then paused. "Close. Wasn't close. Not quite. We had a difference in power. He was naturally my inferior and he was fine with that. He didn't press that at all, even as we started a relationship. Entirely passive. I wouldn't have called us lovers." Xander swallowed and felt it stick in his throat. Too personal, too close. Just mentioning Hephaestion made him feel cold. Ryoma wouldn't have known him, would never make the connection, but that wasn't the point. Hephaestion wasn’t someone he talked about. “And what about you? You seem particularly skilled in pinning men against walls."

Ryoma laughed. "I suppose." Ryoma played with the stem of his wine glass. "I had relationships before, but they never lasted. The last time I had sex was with a prostitute three years ago. It lost its appeal from then."

"You can't say that and expect me to understand."

"I suppose that wasn't clear. This isn’t something I can easily explain. It’s a concept, which is never easy to describe. It also pushes against the Hoshidan way of life, which only makes it harder.” 

“Describe as best you can. If you can’t fill in the blanks, that’s fine. Perhaps they don’t need to be filled at all.”

“Perhaps.” Ryoma leaned back and sighed. “I find that crave physical affection, far more than any Hoshidan should." He hesitated then, looked down at the table, at his fingers tracing over the grain of the wood. "I like the…affirmation, the warmth that it brings. It isn't about sex, it rarely even has to be about kissing." He paused, thought, and Xander waited. Ryoma continued, voice softer. "Do you not crave companionship? Do you not find yourself lonely?"

"No. My duty holds all my attention. I can only spare sentimentality for my family."

"And you're fine with that?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you here with me?"

Xander hesitated. "I…am not…" He trailed off.

“I echo your ideals in many ways. Duty holds my attention at all times. I can live with that, but I’m not necessarily fine with that.”

“You get lonely then?”

Ryoma’s silence said yes. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “I’m not sure of what lasting effects any of my relationships could have,” Ryoma said, and that felt Hoshidan, like he was hiding everything and only showing what would be proper. It was the first time that he really felt like the high prince. “In that way, it’s easier to just not have ties in the first place. But here, we have a week. A week to find companionship in the oddest of places, and then it’s over.”

It was annoying how much of Ryoma echoed in Xander. He shook his head. "Do you call this companionship?"

Ryoma glanced back up at Ryoma. "Yes, of course. Even in this brief stretch of time we’ve spent together, I find that it's much more fulfilling than what I can find back home. And I don't mean that in a way of sexual fulfillment, though I did enjoy it. I want this right now, a conversation, a bond, alongside that thrill. That closeness makes the physical acts real, meaningful."

"Meaningful is a dangerous attitude to have when the masque is near halfway over."

"As you've established multiple times."

"Worth establishing again, apparently. You have very romantic ideals, all things considered."

"We're just using each other, Marx. That hasn't changed. You continued our relationship to be lowered without consequence, and I started this relationship for companionship without any lasting repercussions. That's it. Getting to know you certainly won't hurt."

"Won't it?"

"Of course not. This relationship is just sex and conversation. I understand your worry though. I'll keep a respectable distance, don't worry."

Xander hoped he did, but the conversation wasn't worth treading anymore. "You chose me. Why? I know that comment about justice brought you back, but why start in the first place? I had assumed exotic Nohrian beauty, but now that doesn’t seem true."

“Well don’t you think highly of yourself.”

“Do you deny it?”

“I don’t.” Ryoma looked down at his wine, watched it swirl absently. "Sex stopped having its appeal a while ago, because it felt empty. There was no point. There _has_ to be a basis. Even when there's nothing but physical contact, I still have to have some form of chemistry. I have to like the person, trust them. Otherwise, what’s the point?" He was silent for a long moment, took the last scallop and chewed it. "You were kind to my sister."

Xander went still.

"I saw you talk to her. She was very uncomfortable about the entire masque. Being there didn’t help either. It was already the first day and she was suffering so much. I was going to talk to her when you approached. I was wary at first, some tall, strange Nohrian near my sister. But I had no reason to feel that way. You were kind, respectful, and you made her feel welcome here. She relaxed. And I thought that it would be nice to talk to you, get to know you."

"You flirted shamelessly with me," Xander said. He raised his hand to cover his mouth. Xander wondered if he should remove his mask, end this farce like he should've the first night. Ryoma seemed confident in the distance he was able to keep, but Xander could only think of Azura, if she had been in that situation, how he would feel about the man who comforted her. It was too sentimental.

"Well, you were attractive. And witty. The dance…it was nice. And so I thought I'd act on that warmth and get physical affection as well. I enjoyed that too. It stuck with me."

"And then you came back."

"Yes. I enjoy your company, genuinely. Both our conversations and our liaisons." He put his glass down on the table. "I understand your situation, your hesitation. I'm glad that you have opened up as briefly as you have. I enjoy knowing you."

"Well," Xander started, then set his own glass down. He thought how to continue, stroked his finger up and down the stem of the glass before he looked up at Ryoma. "I hope you realize that I did not come here for a heart to heart."

Ryoma chuckled. "And despite everything I have said…neither did I. Not really."

"Then let's not waste anymore time." Xander reached across the table, grabbed Ryoma's tie, and pulled him forward, into a kiss. For a couple seconds, their kiss was slow and warm. Then Ryoma slid his hand behind Xander's neck and deepened the kiss, leaving Xander breathless when they pulled away. 

"Come over here," Ryoma muttered against Xander's lips, then slid away and back into his chair. Xander stood, then undid his jacket. He glanced at Ryoma, prepared to defend himself for keeping open, but Ryoma was just watching, eyes locked on him. Xander smirked and turned around as he removed his jacket, so Ryoma could see the cross of suspenders over his back. He turned around, looked down at Ryoma's crotch. He was already visibly hard, even through the baggy pants.

"Is something the matter?" Xander asked.

"Yes. You haven't come over here yet." Xander walked towards Ryoma, and when he was in arms reach, Ryoma hooked his fingers into his belt loops and tugged him closer still, until their legs bumped against each other. "What is that outfit?"

Xander smirked, put his hands on Ryoma's shoulders and leaned in, not close enough to kiss. "Consider it revenge for embarrassing me in front of my siblings. They thought me sick and assumed the sky would fall shortly after."

Ryoma traced his fingers over Xander's neck, eyes moving down hi body. "Gods, it is a torturous revenge. I never thought Nohrian fashion attractive, but even when I couldn't see those damned tight pants it was hard to focus." He kissed Xander, bit his lip, and pulled away. "What punishment will I get if I make you unable to walk the next day?"

Xander shivered, thought about the ache, wished for it. "Depends on how much it burns."

"Closer," Ryoma muttered, put his hands on the back of Xander's thighs and pulled him. Xander straddled the chair and shivered as Ryoma's fingers traced down the back of his legs, guiding him onto his lap. "You're sensitive," he muttered, squeezing his thighs.

"Gentler," Xander muttered. "Softer."

"Marx," Ryoma said, tracing patterns over Xander's thighs, kissing Xander's neck. "You're muscular here. Cavalier?"

"Not since I was boy. Paladin."

"Ah." Ryoma kissed Xander, slid his hands up to Xander's butt and pulled him closer, the broke the kiss and brushed Xander's hair back. "Does that mean you'll ride me?"

"Not if you say it like that."

Ryoma laughed, leaned forward and brushed his lips against Xander's jaw. "I don't know many paladins."

"You know me."

"I do," Ryoma said, then put his hand behind Xander's head and pulled him into a kiss. He kept one hand in Xander's hair, the other moving over Xander's body, his chest, his back, his legs. Xander was burning under Ryoma's hand. He was leaving hot streaks over his skin, even through his clothes.

Xander pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. Their masks clinked against each other and Ryoma moved them back, no longer touching. "Undress," Xander said, feeling his heart thump quickly.

"Of course." Ryoma pulled at Xander's collar. "You first," he said and leaned back.

"Want a show, do you?" Xander said, sitting back. Ryoma stroked Xander's thigh, his fingers near Xander's crotch, never quite touching the bulge there. Xander closed his eyes and let out a breath as he slipped the suspenders off his shoulders. 

"The whole point of all the layers is so you look good taking it off, isn't it?"

Xander laughed, unbuttoning his vest. "I suppose. Though you act like Nohrian fashion is complicated. I've worn a kimono before, and it is no simple matter."

Ryoma pulled Xander back by his hips. "I'm sorry, you've worn a kimono?"

"Twice, in fact." The first was when he was a teenager, his first solo diplomatic mission, and he allowed himself to be dressed in a kimono as a gesture of peace. The second was only a couple years ago, with the rest of his family at a peace conference. They attended a traditional tea ceremony. Ryoma was there both times. He didn't care then, but now, now on Ryoma's lap, with his shirt half untucked, Ryoma was fascinated by the idea of him in a kimono. Xander kissed him, rocked his hips into Ryoma's to hear him moan against his lips, and pulled away again. "I'm about to be naked and you're more concerned with what I wore in the past?"

"It was a very distracting thought," Ryoma said, untucking Xander's shirt fully. He slipped his hand under the shirt and ran his hand up Xander's side. Ryoma's touch was bad enough through all of his layers, but skin-to-skin, with rough callouses sliding up to his ribs, was too much. He moaned softly, shivered on his lap. He reached to undo his collar, but Ryoma grabbed his wrist and held his hand away. His other hand was counting along his ribcage. "Never had a close affair," Ryoma muttered, kissing along his jaw.

It wasn't a question. Xander still breathed out "yes".

"That means you never had anyone touch you anymore than you had to."

"Ryoma—"

"That means I'm the first."

"Ryom—yes."

"You never let anyone this close." Xander could feel his lips curl into a smile. "Lucky me."

Xander didn't want many things. He could feasibly have anything and everything he wanted. But he never wanted, not things that could be given. He'd rather be selfless, provide for his family, for his country. 

He wanted Ryoma, wanted him in all ways. Wanted to be used by him, touched by him, held still by him. So he took, grabbed Ryoma's ponytail and pulled his head back. Ryoma smirked and let himself be moved, arching his neck back, throat bared for Xander. "Move it along, Ryoma."

Ryoma let Xander go and Xander started unbuttoning his shirt. He felt like he had been struck by a thunder spell, jittery and sparking, but his hands remained still. Xander's first thought was that the only reason his hands had stayed still was because of his combat training. It was laughable, but it was all he could think as Ryoma kissed each bit of skin as it became visible, as his hands moved along the edge his shirt further down where his lips couldn't reach, as his hands slid up his sides, up around his shoulders and pushed the shirt off. It fell to the floor behind him. Xander glanced over his shoulder at the shirt crumpled behind him. "That is expensive, you know."

Ryoma grabbed Xander’s chin and pulled their faces together. He kissed the corner of Xander’s mouth. "If you're thinking about your shirt, I must be doing something wrong."

Xander pushed off of Ryoma's lap, ignored him whining "Marx", and picked up his clothes, folding them for later. Xander heard Ryoma stand and smirked. He was wondering what Ryoma would do to him if he left him. Ryoma wrapped his arms around Xander from behind, leaned over and pressed his lips to Xander's shoulder. Xander could feel his erection against his ass. Ryoma bent Xander over, pushing him at a slight angle, and rocked his hips against him. "I want this, Marx," he muttered against Xander's shoulder. "Give this to me."

Xander nodded, closing his eyes. "Go ahead."

But Ryoma didn't move, didn't push Xander against the wall, didn't undo his pants, just nodded against his back and slid his hands over Xander's chest. His hips moved in a small, steady rhythm, a press and release, a reminder. His hands slid up to his shoulders, his touch soft, the fabric of his sleeves rough in comparison despite their finery. "I didn't expect you to have such muscular arms. Since when is that common for cavaliers?"

"Paladin—"

" _Paladins_ ," Ryoma corrected, hissing in his ear.

"It isn't common. It's just me." 

"I feel like that could be said about a lot of things," Ryoma said, scraping his teeth against his shoulder. Now his hands moved lower, slid along the waistband of his pants. Xander pushed back against Ryoma's hips, against the heavy heat of his erection. Ryoma laughed. "Eager, aren't we?"

"Yes," Xander admitted. "So hurry up."

Ryoma pulled back and stepped away. Through all the heat, through the hot flush that dyed his skin pink, he went cold. "Then get undressed for me." Xander smirked and sat down in the bed, brought his foot up and began unlacing his boots. He glanced at Ryoma, found him still watching, raptured even though this was probably the least sexy thing he'd do all night. Xander put that boot and sock to the side and started on the other. "Those boots are certainly not as attractive now," Ryoma said as Xander loosened the laces. He still stared.

"Would you prefer if I wore the scuffed shoes?"

"Those boots make the outfit but yes, please wear those. After all, you did promise me you'd wear them."

"I don't see you wearing my favor."

"I gave it over too late. Shall I see if I can fetch it now?"

Xander stood, unbuttoned his pants, slid them down his hips a bit. "Only if you want to," he said, then pushed his pants down and off.

Ryoma was still fully clothed, staring at Xander, completely naked except for the mask. That mask was his only armor, the only thing protecting him. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt like he was breathing too quickly. Ryoma just watched him. Then he blinked and looked up at Xander. He tilted his head and Xander stepped forward and was pulled into a kiss. Ryoma's hands roamed, traced aimless patterns over his skin, around scars, over the jut of bone. The brush of fabric made him shiver. Ryoma pulled back, brushed Xander's hair out of his face. "Marx," he whispered. For a second, he looked fond, soft, and it was so genuine that it almost scared Xander. Then it hardened. "Bend over for me. Over that dresser." He squeezed Xander's bicep and let go. 

Xander did as he was told, walked over to the dresser and bent over it, braced himself on his forearms, spread his legs a bit, and waited. Ryoma cursed in Hoshidan, and Xander smirked. He looked over his shoulder. "Is something wrong, Ryoma?"

Ryoma walked over to Xander and put his hand on Xander's head, pushing gently. Xander let himself be moved, lowering his head down to the desk, his hair falling forward and brushing against the wood. "You're a paladin," he muttered, his hand sliding off of his head, down his spine, "a commander, I am sure, a natural leader, but you follow orders so easily."

Xander didn't feel like a leader, not in front of Ryoma, not in his effortless power. "You are easy to follow."

“Damn, Marx.” He pulled away and Xander tilted his hand as he watched Ryoma wash his hands clean. “You’re making it difficult to move slowly.” 

“Then you should move faster,” Xander said, then rested his head back on his hands. “I am waiting for you.”

“ _Marx_.” Ryoma opened up three different drawers before he found a tin. He clicked it open. Xander took slow and steady breaths, in for five, out for five. He hissed when he felt Ryoma's slick fingers trace lightly over his skin, then exhaled and forced himself to relax. "Are you comfortable?"

"Reasonably so."

"Could you hold this position?"

"Yes."

"Good." Ryoma spread his cheeks and ran a cool finger around him. Xander clenched his fists, trying to keep his breathing steady, to force himself to relax. "Because you are not allowed to move." He pushed his finger and Xander let yielded to him and it slipped in. 

This wasn't something he was used to. It felt like an intrusion, like he shouldn’t be wanting it in there. He took a deep breath, forced himself to relax around Ryoma's finger as it thrust slowly. Ryoma rubbed Xander's hip. "Good Marx, good. Relax. You're so good at this."

The ache was beginning to fade, intrusion beginning to turn into pleasure. He exhaled, felt it rasp in his throat into a moan. "I haven't done this," he muttered.

"Being on the receiving end?"

"Yes."

"How odd when you fit it so well." He kissed along his shoulder, teased a second finger against Xander's entrance, but didn't push any further. "Is it for me, I wonder."

Xander laughed, mostly because he didn't know what to do with his voice. Ryoma pushed that second finger inside of him. 

For a second, there was nothing but that hot press of pleasure and his heart thumping in his ears and his panting. Then he heard Ryoma, bent over his back, whispering in his ear, "—good job, you're doing such a good job, Marx. You were made for me, made for me to do this to you, and you’re excellent."

Xander shivered, not just from Ryoma’s fingers scissoring inside of him. Ryoma didn't need prompting, was giving him the encouragement that he no doubt needed alongside the lowering that he wanted. "Made for your fingers, at the very least," Xander muttered, then broke off into a moan when Ryoma's fingers curled inside of him.

"And I'd be content fucking you like this, if I'm honest." Xander pushed back against Ryoma's hand, and he pressed a hand to Xander's hip and held him still. "But let's try for a third and then see how you take my cock." He pushed a third finger inside of Xander. Too soon. That brought a spark of pain, with no promise of pleasure. He dug his nails into his palm, tried to focus his breathing. Ryoma withdrew his fingers and wrapped his hand around Xander's erection instead, his thumb moving underneath Xander's head. "Sorry," he muttered against his shoulder. "That was too much."

Xander shook his head. "I can take a bit of pain."

"I can tell." Ryoma moved and kissed a spot on his back, the scar he had gotten when Velvet and Hephaestion had told him to retreat, and an arrow struck him in the back. "That doesn't mean I want to cause you pain."

"I'd loosen up."

"Eventually." He stroked Xander's dick, his fingers slick with lubricant.

"I'm not going to break."

"But if I'm gentle now, then I can be rough with you later." He withdrew his fingers, letting his damp fingertips trace over Xander's skin. He dipped his fingers back into the tin, recoating his fingers, then slipped two fingers back into Xander. He took his time loosening Xander, adding a third finger and stretching him even more. Every slow thrust of his fingers nudged his prostate, making Xander lose himself in a sea of stars. Ryoma's other hand was locked around the base of his dick in a tight ring, preventing from coming even though he felt like he was so close. Xander was panting, shaking when Ryoma finally pulled back, brushing his hair behind his ear to kiss his neck before stepping away.

Xander rested his head on his hands and waited, hearing fabric rustling behind him as Ryoma got undressed. He was taking his time, making Xander shiver in anticipation.

Then, Ryoma stopped. "Ummm…"

"Ryoma?"

"Marx…" he started, sounding terribly awkward and embarrassed.

Xander was confused, then realized something: "You have servants dress you—"

"I don't know how to get out of these clothes."

Xander bit his finger and shook his head.

"Marx, could you help?"

"But Ryoma, you told me not to move."

"Marx."

"I am not allowed to move under any circumstances."

"Marx please."

Xander pushed off the dresser and turned around. Ryoma had figured out how to get out of the coat, but apparently everything else was impossible to navigate. Xander started with the tie, slipped his fingers behind the knot and pulled gently, letting it come undone. Ryoma took it from his hand and let it fall to the floor. The Hoshidan sun was bright. He started unbuttoning his vest. "It's not that hard, you know."

"Buttons are difficult to navigate if you've gone your whole life without them."

True, but Xander wasn't about to let it go. He wondered, absently, while he undid Ryoma's shirt, if he liked teasing Ryoma because he hated the man under the mask. Ryoma certainly hated Xander. Xander pushed that away and kissed Ryoma's neck as he untucked his shirt and undid the buttons there.

"Now you're just showing off," Ryoma muttered. 

"I assure you, I have more talents than removing clothes." Xander pushed the shirt and vest off and stared. He knew Ryoma was not a small man. He had attributed it to his armor, to the many spiky layers that enlarged his frame. After seeing Ryoma in a suit, Xander assumed that the armor was all presentation. He underestimated how much the suit slimmed Ryoma. Ryoma's shoulders were broad and muscular, more than Xander's own build. Ryoma was wide, heavy with muscle. It was amazing he could flip as effortlessly as he did. And then there was his right arm, a dull red lightning scar starting narrow at his wrist and stretching up to his shoulder, thickening and branching outward and curling around his skin like the branches of a tree. Raijato's mark, he realized, a blistering shock that wouldn't fade. He wondered if it felt different than the rest of his skin, if some magic lurked that would make it warm to the touch.

Ryoma reached out and touched Xander's shoulder, and he shook his head. "Sorry. I was a bit distracted." He undid Ryoma's pants, felt his smirk against the back of his head. "Do I need to unlace your shoes or can you handle that?"

"I can handle that, thank you," Ryoma said, pushing Xander back briefly so he could bend down and take off his shoes. Ryoma straightened, tried to push his pants down.

They stayed. 

"Ah, there must be a hidden button."

"Buttons are tortuous enough, but now you hide them?" Ryoma complained. He lost his words when Xander dipped his hand under the waistband of his pants and undid the button there. Xander smirked, ran his hand back and forth, his fingers running along the smooth fabric of his smallclothes, his knuckles over skin. Ryoma shivered, but grabbed Xander's wrist. "I think that's enough teasing, Marx." He pulled Xander's hand away, then pushed his pants and underwear to the floor.

Xander stared. He didn't know what he was thinking, he was just staring, aware of his quickening heartbeat, his shallow breathing. Ryoma took his chin and tilted his head up, so he was looking at his face. Ryoma leaned in and Xander moved to meet him. Ryoma pulled back, just breathing against his lips. "Get back on the dresser."

Xander had a brief urge to tug Ryoma's hair down from its ponytail, to run his fingers through it. He turned around and bent back over the dresser, bracing himself on his forearms. He felt Ryoma stand behind him, could feel his body heat even though they weren't touching. He heard a wet sound underneath Ryoma's heavy breathing as he slicked his cock. Xander waited, shivering when Ryoma finally spread his cheeks and nudged his head against him. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready.”

"Marx," Ryoma muttered, then pushed inside of him. Xander hissed and arched his neck back. "Marx," Ryoma whispered, bending over him, his chest pressed against his back. "Are you okay, Marx?"

Xander nodded. "Yes. Yes. I'm fine. It's just different. Keep going."

"I'm not pausing for you, Marx. Gods, it's been a while and you're perfect." He pushed in further, groaning, then pulled back out and thrust back in again. The thrusts were shallow, gradually going deeper. It made Xander dizzy with heat. Ryoma's hands held his hips tightly, clenching slightly with every slow thrust. His breath was hot on Xander's back, and he could feel Ryoma's lips, not kissing, just murmuring his name.

He stopped moving again when he was buried fully into Xander's ass, his hips flush against Xander's. "Marx."

"Gods, Ryoma, just move. Please."

Ryoma pulled back halfway then snapped his hips forward again. Xander moaned, and Ryoma thrust again. Xander wanted to set his own pace, decide how hard and rough he'd be. But his position wasn't the best, and Ryoma was holding him so tightly. He couldn't move. "Harder," Xander said, tried to sound commanding and ended up panting it instead. "Ryoma," Xander said, and the word tasted like 'please'. He could only ask and hope Ryoma would indulge.

Ryoma muttered his name and began thrusting faster. It ached, and Xander moaned. Ryoma settled into a quick pace, though his rhythm wasn't consistent, faltering whenever Xander clenched around him. It didn't matter though. His hips slapped against Xander's, the head of his dick nudging against his prostate. Ryoma kept talking, muttering encouragements and praises between moans. They stopped being in Common fairly quickly, lapsing into Hoshidan mid sentence. It became a cycle, Hoshidan lapsing into Common and back again. Xander tried to keep count of how many thrusts it took before Ryoma forgot his language, to focus on something like that and put the hot pleasure out of his mind so he could last longer. He couldn't. It was too much, the sparks of pleasure overwhelming, fuzzing his mind. He could've came like that, without Ryoma even touching his erection.

Ryoma stopped thrusting, hips flush against Xander. He breathed heavily against Xander's back, the mask pressing against his spine. Xander groaned, shivering, needing more. Ryoma hadn't come yet, he could feel him still hard inside of him. But he had stopped, and Xander just wanted him to continue. "Ryoma…"

"Shhh…"

"Ryoma, please, just move."

"I'm not coming before you," he muttered, gently biting his shoulder. He slid his hand down Xander's hip, towards his crotch, and wrapped his hand around Xander's erection. He pumped him quickly and resumed thrusting his hips, not enough to cause stars to blink, but hot enough that Xander could feel pressure building behind his navel.

"Merciless," Xander muttered, barely getting the word out.

"Merciless," Ryoma breathed against Xander's neck, "would be fucking you when you're oversensitive."

"Maybe tomorrow," Xander muttered, then bit his arm as he came, bucking into Ryoma's hand. As he coated Ryoma's hand, Ryoma's hips snapped forward, his moan muffled into Xander's shoulder. Xander felt slickness down his thighs as Ryoma pulled back. He couldn’t bring himself to care about that. Ryoma kissed Xander's shoulder, licking off beads of sweat along his neck, his clean hand rubbing over his sides. Xander shivered, blinked at the wood. There was a line of drool on it. The finish was ruined, he thought absently, absurdly. "You might want to get cleaned up," Xander muttered.

"Yeah," Ryoma muttered, kissed his neck, then pulled back. "I'll be back."

Xander waited until Ryoma closed the door behind him before he relaxed, straightened up. His legs shook and he could already feel an ache in his lower back. Ryoma hadn't been rough with him, despite what he promised during their foreplay, but he knew he'd feel it tomorrow. It had been a long time for the both of them.

But had been good. Xander didn't have any regrets, even if it should've been a weakness, even if it had been with Ryoma. Sex was sex.

Ryoma walked back into the room, fiddling with his mask. He looked over at Xander and smiled, his face soft. "Your turn."

Xander nodded. "You should probably get dressed then."

Ryoma gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything. When Xander walked past him, Ryoma brushed his knuckles against his hip. Xander closed the door to the washroom and removed his mask with a long sigh. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess, hanging freely around his face, his ringlets wide curls. He didn't look much like himself. Even in battle he was never this disheveled. He looked away and began cleaning the sweat and stick off of himself. He washed his face three times, cleaned the inside of his mask, and put it back on, tying it tightly. He looked back into the mirror. The mask only showed his face below his earlobes. He supposed there wasn't anything distinctive about it. The tie holding the mask sat lower than his circlet and didn't hold his hair as tightly. The fringe didn’t hang into his face. He didn’t really look like a prince like this. He sighed and turned away, left the washroom.

He expected Ryoma to be gone, but he was laying on the bed. Xander stopped, stared. Ryoma turned his head and smiled. "You didn't expect me to just leave, did you?"

"I did, actually."

"You must not think highly of me." Ryoma sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Come here."

"I have to get back to the masque," Xander said, but he wanted to.

"Come here."

"You should get back too."

"Come here."

"I've been gone too long."

"Marx."

Xander stepped forward and Ryoma reached out and held Xander's hips. He pulled him closer and kissed Xander's stomach. Xander put his hands on Ryoma's head. He had taken his hair down. Xander wound his fingers into Ryoma's hair. Even though his hair was so large with absurd spikes, it felt soft, slid against his palms. "Did you stay just because you can't get dressed on your own?"

"I'd've stayed even if Nohrian clothes made sense." He moved over to a spot above his pelvis, a jagged scar from a sibling's dagger. "Stay."

"Ryoma."

"There's a bed here," he muttered against his stomach, his hands sliding around Xander's back. Xander tightened his grip in Ryoma's hair. He felt Ryoma grin against his skin. "It'd be a shame not to use it."

"We just had sex."

"I know. But we didn't cuddle."

Xander sighed and stepped out of Ryoma's grip, walking around the bed to lay on top of the sheets. Ryoma laid back down, turning on his side to reach around and cup Xander's hip. "Cuddling isn't a part of sex."

"I find that it is, as much as foreplay is."

Xander hummed. "You're sentimental."

"And you're here."

"I am," Xander said. "So do we cuddle in silence? Gaze dreamily at each other? Or do you have something to say?"

"Questions, if you'll answer."

"By all means."

"You said you had siblings," Ryoma said, moving his hand to Xander's hair.

Xander could hear the question. Innocent enough, but Xander didn't know how much to reveal. He could answer honestly, more honesty than he'd give to anyone, like he did tonight already. But those things, Hephaestion, were different. Only Camilla knew of Hephaestion. There was no connection, nothing that Ryoma would notice. But Ryoma knew his family, begrudgingly, but knew all the same. He spoke slowly, carefully, thinking over each word. "Yes. Three sisters, one brother. I'm the eldest."

"Too personal?"

Xander grimaced. Not as sly as he thought. "No. Well, yes." He sighed, turned and looked at Ryoma. "This is a masque, you realize."

"Yes, you've brought it up."

Xander looked back at the ceiling, closed his eyes. He spoke slowly, not sure how to continue. "You…have one sister, at the very least."

"We are the same, in that respect. Three sisters, one brother. Tell me, how old is your brother?"

Xander smirked a bit. "Eighteen."

"Same as mine."

Xander pushed further, turned his head to look at Ryoma. "How difficult is he to handle? When he was growing, he was fine, but he has been so stressful to take care of since puberty."

Ryoma laughed. "Is he moody?"

"Not anymore. When he was a teenager, he was overly somber and withdrawn. Luckily, that has faded into just an obsession with darkness metaphors."

"Ah, mine has echoes of that. No dark obsessions, but he hasn't stopped being a stubborn ox. I try my best to be a good role model, to encourage him but—"

"He takes offense to it."

"He does. None of my sisters have given me this much of a problem, and I certainly wasn't like this at his age."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Xander said, drawing on his memories as a teenager.

Ryoma looked over at him. "Do you think so?"

Xander hesitated. "No, Ryoma. Perspective is necessary, but no, you were not moody, that I am sure of."

Ryoma pulled on a curl of Xander's hair. "I wonder who you were thinking of, then."

"You, of course."

Ryoma hummed, but didn't say any more. "What were you like as a teenager?"

"Young."

"Very funny."

"I'm surprisingly serious. I felt far younger than I should've been. It took a while for me to grow, mentally."

"I don't believe that for a moment. You are too smart and serious."

"It isn't a matter of mental maturity. I was terribly shy as a child. I could barely talk to my friends and siblings half of the time. My father was the most terrifying person I knew. When I grew into a teenager, I was recovering from that, learning how to speak, have a conversation, hold an argument. Simple concepts that I should've learned years before but was too inept at speaking to learn. So yes, I consider my teenage years young."

"Odd. I'd consider you exceedingly mature, perhaps even excessively."

Xander scoffed and Ryoma gently pinched him in response.

"I'm serious. Ability to hold a conversation does not an adult make, and anxiety is not a detriment."

"Says the person with no anxiety."

"And what makes you think that?"

Xander looked at Ryoma out of the corner of his eye, so confident, so assured. "No social anxiety, at least. Not the kind I felt. Feel."

Ryoma ran his hand down Xander's side. Xander sighed and closed his eyes, focused on the motion, on the pleased tingling it brought. Ryoma started speaking again. "True. My youngest sister has crushing anxiety, unlike the rest of our family. She stutters over the words she does speak, regrets everything she says, fears everything…I could go on. But she isn't weak, not at all. She has her own strength. She is far, far more mature than I ever could hope to be. When I was a teenager, I had too many words, too full of what I thought was wisdom, too foolish to realize I had much to learn. So the fact that I see my sister try every day to climb mountains I never had to scale fills me with pride." His hand tracked up Xander's arm. "And then there's you."

Xander stared at Ryoma for a long time. He waited for him to continue, and Ryoma just stared. Xander finally spoke. "I do not need your validation."

"No. No you don't."

"The sentiment, however, is noted."

Ryoma relaxed into a small smile. He traced his fingers along Xander's jaw. Xander wanted to kiss him, but he wasn't sure what that would imply, considering what Ryoma just said. "Did your family urge you to relax too? You mentioned it the first night."

"Ah, a bit. My friends too. They don't want me to relax too much, considering we're in Nohr."

Xander laughed a bit. "I don't think anything would happen to you here."

"You have to understand our wariness though."

Xander didn't, but he let it slide. They had been nothing but accommodating outside the usual passive-aggressive behaviors between the royals. Certainly nothing warranting that behavior. 

"Apparently, I have been too stiff lately. My brother bluntly said that I should try sleeping again."

"You don't sleep either?"

"Not really. What keeps you up?"

"The fact that I still have so much I could do. You?"

"The same. I get sleep frequently enough, though not regularly. Apparently, that's not good enough. So my family said 'relax while you have the chance' and my friends said 'get that companionship while you have the chance'."

"And so you decided the best way to do that was pinning me against the wall."

"As if you didn't take the same solution."

"My family and friends only wanted me to relax and enjoy myself instead of doing my duty." Xander paused. "You started it."

"You finished it."

"You didn't give me a choice."

"You dragged me back." Ryoma said, then reached out and cupped Xander's cheek. Xander turned on his side and looked at him, at his small, fond smile. "I'm glad you did, Marx." Ryoma broke the distance between them, leaned over and kissed Xander. 

They kissed slowly, but there was still heat, their tongues meeting and winding. Their was like the Hoshidan afternoon, sun high and hot, a slow breeze. Ryoma moved closer. Their legs bumped together, Xander slipped his knee between Ryoma's legs. Ryoma's hand traced up his side. Xander could feel him chuckle when Xander shivered. "I've already figured you out," Ryoma muttered when they pulled apart, his fingers rubbing over his ribs. He was smirking that cocky, self confident smirk that Xander knew and hated well, but his eyes were soft and fond enough that Xander put his hand behind Ryoma's neck and pulled him back into a kiss. He stroked his neck, pressed his thumb against Ryoma's pulse and felt it beat. 

They touched each other like that, Ryoma over his sides and legs, Xander over his chest and arms. The gentle touch and winding warmth was enough that Xander got hard, just a bit, just enough that when Ryoma moved his hand down his thighs, he brushed his cock, pulled away to look, then smirked and wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed him firmly with his thumb. He muffled Xander's gasp with a kiss, then chuckled against his lips. "So soon?"

Xander bit Ryoma's lip and reached for his dick, stroking his thumb against his head. "There's a bed. It'd be a shame not to use it."

They kissed, stroking each other to hardness. Ryoma pulled back and scooted closer, looped his leg over Xander's thighs. Their knuckles brushed and Ryoma pushed Xander's hand aside. Xander put his hand against Ryoma's stomach and watched as he wrapped his hand around both of their erections, holding them in his fist. He rubbed Xander's head and slid slick precum over their lengths. Xander pushed back into a kiss, rocking his hips into Ryoma's hand. 

"Easy, Marx," Ryoma muttered. "Take it slow." He kissed Xander, pressed his heel into Xander's calf and pushed his leg closer. He kissed Xander and moved his hand. Their sex was as slow as their kiss and Xander burned in the heat of it. He skimmed his hand down Ryoma's abs and let his hand wrap around the two of them, his fingers overlapping with Ryoma's. He moved his hand with Ryoma's, gasping slightly into his mouth. It wasn't long for either of them after that. Xander came first, squeezing Ryoma's hand as he came. He was still streaking white over Ryoma's hand when he pressed his forehead against Xander's and came too. Underneath Ryoma's groan, there was the dull clunk of their masks hitting. 

Xander panted and moved his hand away, staring at Ryoma. He was so close that his mask was just a swirl of red and white with no discernible pattern, his eyes gray and colorless. "Now," Xander said softly, "I really should get going."

"I guess you're right," Ryoma muttered, his hand trailing over Xander's pelvis as he moved out of the bed and into the washroom. He cleaned himself, ignoring the mirror, then left and let Ryoma in. He got dressed while Ryoma cleaned, managed only to get his shirt halfway buttoned before Ryoma came back into the room, stared at the clothes on the floor, and asked for help.

"Your clothes are going to be horrifically wrinkled," Xander warned.

"I'm sorry," Ryoma said as he watched Xander button his pants. He tilted Xander's chin up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I was too distracted to care about the state of my clothes. Truly, it must be a Nohrian talent to care so much for clothes."

Ryoma's dressing continued in that way, light barbs traded in between stolen kisses. Xander tightened Ryoma's tie, then slipped his fingers back in to loosen it a bit so it fit him better. Xander took a step back and looked at Ryoma. He was no longer the bold and elegant Hoshidan he was when he entered, his clothes wrinkled and not fit as well, obvious that they had been thrown on floor and forgotten. "Marx, about tomorrow."

Xander resumed dressing himself. "Yes."

"Do you want to do this again tomorrow? Do you want me to get a room for us?"

"Do you?" Xander asked, focusing on his buttons.

"Yes, very much."

"Then yes. Go right ahead. But don't feed me again. It's unnecessary."

"I never see you eat, excuse me."

"Because I eat beforehand." Xander slipped his jacket on. He decided to leave it unbuttoned. "I'll be taking my leave then."

"After you."

Xander opened the door and stepped out. He hesitated in the doorframe and turned around. Ryoma was tying his hair back, the ribbon between his teeth. He hummed softly, smoothing his hands over the side of his head to catch those strands and tie them back. "Tomorrow, Ryoma," Xander promised.

Ryoma just smiled.


	6. The Fifth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Move your feet and feel it  
>  in the space between  
> You've got to give yourself a moment  
>  let your body be
> 
> .....we've got to _lose it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarifying right now for my headcanon on the Nohrian language: Because Nohr is a delicious mashup of Italian and Greek themes, I headcanon them to speak Italian, but write with the Greek alphabet...which ends up being a nice parallel to kanji.
> 
> Because the end note will be long: **The remaining updates will be weekly** because holy crap that deadline caught up fast and I'm still writing chapter eight, which is not an easy chapter.

Xander made sure to personally visit the servant's quarters and left a hefty tip for them for their hard work maintaining the masque and their extensive clean up. He did that with room twenty-five in mind. He might've felt a bit guilty for his actions last night and the fact that he didn't have the willpower to stop the remaining nights. But regardless of the mess he made of furniture, there wasn’t anything to worry about. His and Ryoma’s relationship could barely be called that. It was just sex, nothing more. A few honest talks maybe, but that was as much of an indulgence as everything else, nothing to worry about. It was the fifth night of the masquerade, and it would come to an end, Ryoma would never see 'Marx' again, and Xander could move on.

Xander exited the servant's area and found Ryoma amicably talking to the servant stationed at the entrance. He flicked a token between his fingers. Xander stopped, took in Ryoma. It was honestly amazing how easily his face softened and he seemed so approachable. He shouldn't have been, really, not with the overt armor, the spikes, the faceplate. He was Hoshidan, and Hoshidans were distant, emotions carefully guarded and intentions hidden under subtle noises and intense rhetoric (unless they wore a mask, then it was startling genuine). But Ryoma made himself far more approachable than Xander ever could be.

Xander wasn't sure if he felt envy anymore, or if it was just admiration. He found himself staring, focused on the space around his eyes, the space he was used to seeing red and white. Lingering sentimentality then, he realized.

The servant noticed him and bowed. Ryoma turned to him and his face hardened. "Prince Xander."

That was familiar, comfortable, easy to navigate. Most importantly, it didn't spark any sentimentality. "Prince Ryoma. I see the masquerade has been treating you kindly."

Ryoma narrowed his eyes and tucked the token against his palm. "The people, certainly so. Some moreso than others."

Xander had a feeling that they were both referring to him. Xander started to walk away at the same time Ryoma did and they both stopped and glared. Slowly, Xander faced forward and started walking. Ryoma fell in step beside him. "I hope you're enjoying aspects of the masque other than the people."

"Why Prince Xander, I thought you had encouraged us to mingle. In fact, I was sure that it was the entire point."

"You know exactly what I mean. I'd rather not use vulgarities in public, but I will if you are still daft enough that you need confirmation."

Ryoma let out a sigh and spoke blandly, like reading from a list. "There are other aspects. The masquerade has been well hosted. The food is good, despite how Nohrian it is. The music is well played." He paused. He spoke again, tone a bit softer, more genuine. "There are not many Hoshidan songs that are played, or danced to."

Xander glanced at Ryoma, looked forward again. He thought back to the conversations he had with other guests, sifting through them for comments on music. "You are more familiar with your music than I am. If you'd like, you could to seek out the musicians and make some recommendations of songs, perhaps any traditional dances. I'll put in my own request to help push it, but I wouldn't be able to narrow it down to a genre." He glanced over at Ryoma. Ryoma didn't say anything, just stared at him as they walked. Xander felt analyzed, picked apart. Xander just chuckled a bit. "Don't give me that look, Prince. I am simply being a gracious host. More than a few Nohrians commented on the Hoshidan music, and if an esteemed guest would feel more comfortable with more music from his country, then I will provide."

Ryoma still didn't seem to trust Xander even still, but he slowly nodded. "Then I'll give my opinion then."

Xander couldn't help feel a bit triumphant. Xander was largely unaffected by Ryoma's presence, and what little he was affected by Ryoma was easily enough attributed to the fact that twelve hours ago he had his cock up his ass. Once the masque was over, once everything faded, he wouldn't have to worry about slipping, about staring red-faced at Ryoma. And their engagements had a lasting positive effect: Xander had softened to Ryoma, was willing to talk to him like this, even if they still exchanged barbs frequently. And even better, Ryoma seemed willing enough to do the same. And if Xander won over Ryoma, then Hoshido in turn would soften to Nohr. Diplomatic relations with Hoshido could improve, given time. Maybe they wouldn't kill each other then.

Xander looked down at Ryoma, then his heart almost stopped. He had missed it before, hadn’t thought to look, but tucked into Ryoma's belt was Xander's handkerchief. Prince Ryoma wore the favor that Xander had given to the masked man. 

They reached the end of the hallway and Xander walked into the doorframe. Xander cursed and held his nose while Ryoma stopped and stared. "I'm still recovering from my cold," Xander stupidly said.

"It stuck?”

“Yes, unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like it will go away.”

“Don't give it to me."

"If I have it, you certainly have it."

Ryoma gave Xander a bland look and walked away. Xander rubbed his nose and stared at Ryoma's back, his thick hair, remembered last night running his fingers through it. It was absurdly soft and light.

Okay, maybe Xander wasn't as levelheaded around Ryoma as he thought.

\---

Xander wasn't avoiding Ryoma, not exactly. He knew he'd be following him to a room, was planning on it. He saw no reason not to. But he wasn't looking for Ryoma. He had far too much work and maintenance to do. The masque had begun to shift to something more Hoshidan, which didn't go over well with many of the guests.

Xander stood with Leo on the sidelines. Leo was in a crisp black suit, the only color on a starlit cape draping behind him that was dotted and swirled with silver. His mask had only the faintest golden embroidery. Xander felt bright next to him, even though the only bit of color was red, the red of his shirt, the red thread designing the seams of his jacket, the stripes of red alongside the black of his tie. Everything else was black though. He wore the scuffed the shoes. The two of them watched the crowd, both stiffening when a shamisen started playing, then more Hoshidan instruments joined it in song. There were some who treated it as a just another song, but there were Nohrians who huffed and left the floor, moving as far away from the band as possible. Xander saw a Hoshidan woman with a wicked smirk drag another woman onto the floor, her face the picture of joy. Many other Hoshidans shared her enthusiasm, but both Xander and Leo looked at the Nohrians, both commoners and nobles who did not dance.

"Apparently," Leo commented to him over his champagne, "a few songs are cute and quaint, but actually hearing Hoshidan music regularly is horrible and an affront to the masque. I have heard more than a few complaints about the music dominating the scene."

"It's not," Xander replied.

"I know it's not. It's a third, at most. But that's more than enough, you understand. Our setup was fine before. Who convinced you to speak with the musicians?"

"The high prince."

Leo shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clinked.

"An esteemed enough guest, you'll find. And I had heard enough guests complimenting the music before to feel comfortable indulging him his own culture. The Hoshidans seem to have blossomed. I've overheard enough and had enough said to me to feel confident in this."

Leo nodded and drank from his flute. Xander did the same with his wine and let him think. "I'm amazed that you could have a civil conversation with him."

"So am I."

"This is the third strange event this masque had brought you," Leo laughed, placing his empty glass on a passing servant's tray.

"Third?"

"Your cold and then your happy attitude."

Xander frowned. "I don't have a happy attitude." He could've phrased that better.

"You've felt different as the days go on. It's more of an aura than overt happiness. It's noticeable though, I feel. I’ve talked with Azura about it."

"I'm glad to be the center of gossip. Do me a favor and put that flapping tongue of yours to use and calm the nobles."

Leo sighed. "At least give me some warning next time. I need some time to study for these things. I'm not Elise, I can't mimic the music with my mouth to charm people into thinking this is a good idea."

"Can't you? I'd like to see you try first."

Leo gave him a piercing look and walked away. Xander chuckled and went back to his wine. Maybe he was in a good mood. Xander walked along the perimeter of the room, trying to figure out where to go, who to entertain. He found a woman—Adrianna, he remembered—talking loudly, saying how the mood had changed and she wasn't sure why. He'd have to go over and talk to her, ignore her flirting, and figure out what was the best way to talk about Hoshidan music.

Xander felt fingertips rub along his neck, under his hair. He stiffened and heard Ryoma chuckle. "Marx," he said, practically humming his name.

"Ryoma," Xander said, turning around. Ryoma withdrew his hand, smiling. "Be more subtle, please. We're in public."

Ryoma tugged at the lapels of Xander's jacket. "Red suits you."

"Ryoma," Xander said, pushing Ryoma's hand away. Ryoma took a couple steps back and smirked at him. Xander couldn't help but look Ryoma up and down, see what he was wearing, see how Nohr looked on him. He had a black jacket on, white waves lining the edges of his sleeve, the fabric shimmering in the light like mother of pearl. The shirt underneath was red, a white tie and vest overtop, delicate golden floral designs traced over the fabric. His pants were white as well, far, far looser than what Xander wore the night before. "You look good," Xander finally said. He didn't know why. He had never been concerned about his appearance before.

"And you look decent."

"Ever the charmer, aren't you?"

"Compared to yesterday, this look is really quite modest and unremarkable."

"Last night you seemed to have hated my outfit."

"Oh, it was a damnable outfit, sinfully painted on."

"Don't exaggerate, it had folds."

"But I did enjoy the view. I do, however enjoy actually being able to talk to you without having a table over your crotch."

"Still in public, Ryoma." Xander smirked a bit. "Though not for long, I take it." 

"Just a bit longer," Ryoma said, extending his hand out. "Long enough for a dance, I think."

Xander stared at his hand. "But we both know how this is going to end."

Ryoma tilted his head, confused. 

"We both know how this night will end. It's inevitable. So why bother with pretense?"

"It's not pretense, for one. You really should understand by now that I enjoy your presence."

He did and didn't. But he still placed his hand in Ryoma's and let him lead him onto the dance floor. The song changed to a Nohrian folk song, and Ryoma clicked his tongue. Xander raised an eyebrow. "Do you have something against Nohrian music?"

"Not particularly. I just would've preferred a Hoshidan song." They fell into a waltz, Xander leading, Ryoma glancing at his feet again. He smiled and shook his head. He probably noticed the scuffed shoe. "Have you noticed the music?"

"It's hard not to. It's been playing more frequently, and so many Nohrians have complained." Xander glanced at Ryoma. "Though I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Ryoma chuckled. "I am. I should warn you though: you can't waltz to Hoshidan music."

"Oh, but many have tried."

"Just as many had tried to join the Hoshidans in a folk song. The result isn't quite…proper."

"But they're trying."

"Oh, they certainly are. But don't worry. You are the exception."

Xander couldn't help smiling at that. "You flatter me."

Ryoma's face fell into something more serious as he hummed. "Not as often as you'd like to think."

Xander narrowed his eyes. They turned to the music. Ryoma stared at him, and he felt like he was being picked apart. "What is it? What do you want to know?"

"Truly? I want to know what happened with Hephaestion to make you have such an odd view of courtship."

Xander's blood froze as he thought of Hephaestion. His past with Hephaestion replayed in his head. Hephaestion’s death echoed in each scene. He wanted to step away from Ryoma and leave, but he ended up squeezing Ryoma's hand. It was warm, which shouldn't have been a comfort when he was overheating. 

Ryoma's thumb rubbed against Xander's skin, and his voice was low. "Don't worry. I'm not going to ask. It's not my place."

"I'd thank you, but it don't exactly feel thankful."

"Understandable. That was just a thought, something I want. But I don't need to ask about the dead."

Xander started, wondered if Ryoma truly remembered his old retainer. "Did you—"

"I only assumed. I know how people talk of the dead." Ryoma looked up at Xander and smiled a little bit. "But that's not a conversation for here, or anywhere really."

Xander didn't know what to say, how to respond, so he just stayed silent, Ryoma's hand in his.

Ryoma squeezed Xander's hand. "Have I killed the mood?"

"The mood hasn't been that stellar to begin with."

"Ah, I suppose that's my fault as well."

"It is."

"I suppose I shouldn't expect much from you tonight then."

"I wouldn't go that far," Xander said and Ryoma grinned. Somehow, that caused him to relax, just a bit. "If you continue to be a problem, I could just gag you."

Ryoma’s grin widened. "That doesn't exactly encourage good behavior."

Xander chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"It’s good to know you’re still looking forward to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” There were plenty of reasons, sure, but Ryoma was ignorant to all of them.

“Truth be told, I was afraid you might've gotten bored with me, considering how you were eyeing that woman."

Xander was confused for a second before he remembered. "Please tell me you were jealous."

"I wasn't jealous, I was simply concerned that you were staring at her for a long time—"

"You seriously were jealous, unbelievable."

"I was not."

"You have nothing to worry about. I don't get attracted to anyone. You are an exception, so you have nothing to fear."

Ryoma squeezed Xander's hand. "Well that's comforting," he said, but it didn't sound as confident as Ryoma should've. Xander realized slowly what he was implying. Honesty, closeness, three nights left, (and Xander had to look forward to hatred during the day, then forever). This wasn't how either of them wanted it to go.

Xander cleared his throat. "Granted, I haven't been shoved up against the wall before. Perhaps that's all it takes."

"Perhaps," Ryoma said, and the dance ended. They broke apart and bowed to each other. The crowd dispersed around them and they stood, together. Ryoma looked up at the railings of the second floor, focused on something that wasn't there. "We have time. All night, really." Ryoma looked back at Xander. "Let's let the time pass for a while."

He wanted distance, time to compose himself. For once, Xander was too honest. It was almost funny. "That's fine."

"Assuming that you still want to join me tonight, that is."

"I do," Xander said, far too quickly. He surprised himself. He didn’t realize how eager he was for Ryoma, for his warmth, for what he might do to him. He slipped a smirk onto his face, pushing down the insecurities until later, until it was safe. "After all, I have to make good on my promise to gag you." He walked away then, felt Ryoma slip his hand to the side to brush against his thigh as he passed.

Xander tried to focus just on his duties. He asked Adrianna to dance, talked pleasantly, mentioned how well he thought the Hoshidan music fit, argued his point for the Hoshidan music, she curtsied, thanked him, and left. He turned to begin to mingle again, saw Ryoma across the crowd, and froze. Ryoma just smirked at him and tilted his head to the side. Xander was too far away to notice details, but he swore he could see Ryoma's hair—the hair too short to fit into his ponytail—fall and brush against his mask. Xander blinked and looked away and tried to focus on anything else, but he could still feel Ryoma there.

It kept happening. His duty, then Ryoma, and then there was nothing else but Ryoma. Sometimes Ryoma would be looking too. Other times, he was focused on someone else (as he should be). He wondered if Ryoma found himself doing the same, found himself searching the crowd and he didn't know why he was until their eyes met and he couldn't look away. 

That and all the conversations—difficult conversations, ones with angry people who fought against his scripts—proved too much. The stress piled on and he couldn’t shake them off. Xander had to step away, found himself in the same spot that he had spent with Ryoma previous nights. He could've laughed if he felt he could breathe steadily. He leaned against the wall and breathed, in for five, out for five. He clenched and unclenched his fist, pushed his thumb down on each finger and cracked it. What happened to the morning? What happened to the calm interactions? What happened to his composure? Was it the mask? Was it the fact that Ryoma actually cared this time? He was never like this with Hephaestion, so why Ryoma?

That wasn't quite true. When they first started their relationship, everything was fine. They were still friends, still very much lord and retainer. Close, but professional. It took time before Xander became aware of Hephaestion, before he really noticed where he stood, how close he was. It was never like this, though, not this frequent. Not this distracting. 

Thinking of Hephaestion didn’t make him feel better. Hephaestion and Ryoma existing in the same mental space was not comforting. His mind wouldn’t shut down with the two of them there, constantly bringing up comparisons.

He heard footsteps and groaned. He didn't feel any better, calmed down but still shaken. He ran through different scripts, trying to think of the best way to respond when someone saw him like this. He turned to the sound and it was Ryoma. His mind stopped short, thoughts emptied except for: "Ryoma."

"Marx," Ryoma responded, taking slow, careful steps towards him. He stopped a few feet from him. "Are you alright?"

Xander shook his head. "But don’t worry. It's nothing you should be surprised about. We've been over my anxiety."

"Do you want me to stay?"

No, he shouldn't want it. These attacks were intimate, something private, something that should've been hidden. His father told him as much. Velvet helped him escape when he was still alive, when he was his retainer still, taught him how to hold himself together in public and unravel out of sight. Out of sight, as it should be.

But he did want it. He remembered Hephaestion's fingers winding in his hair when a nightmare startled him. If Ryoma was the one indulgence he was allowed, he'd get drunk on it. "The worst had passed. Stay." He paused. "Please."

Ryoma leaned on the wall next to Xander, their arms brushing. Not enough. Xander reached out and brushed some of Ryoma's hair back. Ryoma smiled a bit at the touch. Xander was glad his fingers didn't shake. Ryoma ran his fingers over Xander’s hip. "You are alright now, aren't you?"

Not quite, but he wasn’t going to admit that. "Yes. The moment's past.”

“Can I ask what it was about?”

_You_. “I don't do well in prolonged conversations."

"My apologies for trapping you in them so often."

"You don't count. Not really. It's the different people, different roles to fill." Xander was surprised how easily that came and how true it was.

"I noticed that."

"Did you? Were you jealous?"

"Not this time. I know what duty looks like. I just didn't expect a regular noble to have something to do at an event like this."

"You'd be surprised," Xander said and chose to tug on a bit of hair close to Ryoma's ear instead of elaborate.

Ryoma smirked and reached up, laying his fingertips along Xander's jaw. Xander closed his eyes and Ryoma kissed along his jaw, slow and gentle and warm. His nose bumped the edge of his mask and that was where he stopped, lips brushing against his skin as he spoke. "Do you have room to entertain me now?"

Xander smirked. "Am I not doing enough now?"

"I could take more."

"Then take," Xander said and held Ryoma's arm as he moved in front of him and kissed him. Ryoma pushed against him, their bodies flush together. Xander could relax to this, to Ryoma holding him against the wall, taking all the pressure off of Xander. Xander squeezed Ryoma's arm and moved his hand behind Ryoma's neck, deepening their kiss, winding their tongues together. Ryoma's hand moved under his jacket, strokes his side, moved up to his shoulder, then down again to his stomach. He never moved slowly, always moving like he was claiming Xander. This part under his palm, his. This mouth, moving frantically and moaning, his. His hand moved lower, along his hip, to Xander's butt and squeezed. Xander groaned and pulled away. "We are still in public Ryoma."

"Then let's get into private, Marx." Ryoma gave his butt one last squeeze and pulled away. He took a key out of his pocket and smirked. Xander put his hand over the key and kissed Ryoma again, briefly, with just the teasing of teeth before he pulled back. Ryoma was grinning as he led Xander up another staircase to their room. Xander should've been cautious, should've checked to see who might've been there. But he was sparking like a thunder spell, and he didn't care at all. It felt odd, being this reckless, but all that mattered was Ryoma, Ryoma grabbing Xander's tie and pulling him inside, Ryoma's lips against his, Ryoma pushing him against the wall, Ryoma's hands tangled in his hair.

"I don't know why we're so eager tonight," Xander said as they pulled apart. Last night was calm, slow even if Xander could've drowned in Ryoma. Last night he wanted, tonight he needed and he didn't know when that change happened.

Ryoma hummed for a second, running his hands down from Xander's hair to his neck. His thumbs pressed against Xander's racing pulse. "I've wanted this all day." He kissed Xander briefly. "I dreamed about you."

Xander's eyes widened. "You—"

"In the daylight, in Hoshido."

Xander pushed down the tumbling in his stomach. "Was I wearing a kimono?"

"No, you were naked."

"Ah."

Ryoma tugged at Xander's shirt, then looked up at him. "Marx, I—"

Xander put his hands on Ryoma's neck and pulled him into a kiss, muffling his words. He moved his fingers over Ryoma's skin, down to undo the buttons of his shirt, running his fingers down Ryoma's throat. When Xander pulled away, Ryoma didn't seem interested in talking anymore, pulling at the knot of Xander's tie. "So how am I having you tonight?" Ryoma asked.

Xander laughed. "What makes you think I'd be taking it tonight?"

"You seemed to enjoy being lowered. In fact, I was sure that it was the point."

"But I did promise to gag you." Xander reached back and pulled on the string tying Ryoma's hair back. He held the ponytail in his fist and slowly loosened, watching his hair fall out of place, slipping out of his grip. "I do intend to make good on that promise."

"And then? How would you have me, Marx?"

"However I want, of course." Xander leaned in and kissed Ryoma, and Ryoma wrapped his arms around Xander. Xander let the remains of Ryoma's ponytail go and wound one hand into his loose hair, the other sliding down his back. Xander turned Ryoma around and pushed him against the wall. He moved his body flush against Ryoma's, pinning him there. Ryoma moaned softly and Xander pulled back after scraping his lips with teeth. "I wonder if they have something here that I could gag you with."

"I do have your favor," Ryoma said, nudging Xander back so he could open his jacket and show him the handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket. Xander stared at it for a long moment, and couldn’t think of anything else. "Or this damnable tie."

That broke Xander’s gaze away from his handkerchief. "That's a horrible way to treat something I've given you, and you need to wear that tie."

"No I don't," Ryoma said, pulling at his tie until it became undone. He took Xander's hand and placed the tie in his palm, closing Xander's hands around it. He smirked and pressed a quick kiss to Xander's lips. "Gag me."

"I don't care if you don't like ties, it completes the outfit and you have to wear it."

"Gag me before I gag you."

"Fine," Xander said, rolling his eyes. "You're a petulant child. If you want the gag off, knock three times."

"What makes you think I can't just remove it?" He let his mouth fall open and Xander stuffed the tie in his mouth, tying it snug.

Xander grabbed Ryoma's hands, linked their fingers together, and shoved his hands against the wall. "What makes you think I'll let you have that right?" Xander smirked at him and leaned in to kiss his jaw, sucking gently, not enough to mark, just enough to tease. Ryoma moaned around the gag, his voice muffled. Xander moved his lips to Ryoma's neck and he shivered. "All that talk last night about me being sensitive," Xander muttered against Ryoma's skin. He pushed Ryoma's hands against the wall again, then let him go as he began to unbutton his shirt. Ryoma kept his hands there. "And yet here you are, shivering like this. I suppose you don't let anyone near you either?"

Ryoma's eyes fluttered closed as Xander mouthed at his throat. He shook his head.

Xander was elated at that. He didn't know why. It was amusing, sure, and it was refreshing to push Ryoma against the wall, slide his hands under Ryoma's shirt and feel his breath flutter in his chest. But he felt proud, special even, that he had Ryoma like this.

He gently bit Ryoma's neck to distract himself and Ryoma moaned, loud even through the gag. "It won't stay," Xander muttered as Ryoma's hands tangled into his hair. He blew softly on the red mark. "At least not tomorrow." 

Ryoma nodded and Xander pulled his shirt open. Ryoma put his hands on Xander's shoulders, squeezing gently. Xander ran his hands over Ryoma's chest, and Ryoma shivered. Xander could feel his heart beating, a fast, quick pace, his chest rising and falling with each breath. It was intoxicating somehow, and Xander wanted to linger. He doubted Ryoma would be entertained by that for long, even though he was squeezing his shoulders and breathing heavily through the gag.

He wished that he had waited a bit longer to gag Ryoma. He had no clue what he liked. His chest and arms were sensitive, but that was it. Did he like it with hard presses or teasing glances? Were his nipples even tender? (Xander's weren't really; he still remembered how disappointed Hephaestion was when he found out.) Xander leaned back in to kiss Ryoma's jaw and rubbed his thumb against Ryoma's nipple. Ryoma groaned into Xander's ear, loud. A good sign. He teased his fingernail around Ryoma's nipple and then pinched him. Ryoma's hips bucked a bit. A better sign. "So little," Xander muttered.

Ryoma cupped Xander's cheeks and moved him so that they were looking at each other and gave Xander the best glare he could.

"Careful, Ryoma. If you glare at me like that, I won't want to continue." But he did want to, no matter how Ryoma reacted. Ryoma's hands slid from Xander's cheeks to his hair as he bent down and ran his tongue around Ryoma nipple until it hardened, then gently bit it. Ryoma gripped his hair tightly and shivered underneath him. Xander scraped his teeth against Ryoma's nipple and pulled back so he could get his shirt and jacket off. He tossed it over the dresser—because unlike Ryoma, he knew the value of clothes—and returned his hands to his skin.

Xander was drawn to his right arm, to the jagged red scar. He made to touch, then stopped, glancing up at Ryoma. "Is it sensitive?" Xander asked, then immediately felt ridiculous. Ryoma couldn't answer. The scar had to have been at least a decade old. Xander made to apologize, but Ryoma grabbed his wrists. He guided Xander's hands to his shoulders, then let him go and moved his own hands to Xander’s arm. He trailed his fingertips down Xander’s right arm, grabbed and squeezed his left. Xander ran his fingertips down Ryoma's arm, one finger on a red flash of lightning, the rest on tan skin.

The scar was smooth, without any texture. It must've been sensitive though. Ryoma's fingers twitched on his shoulder. He squeezed Ryoma's bicep—the left, without the lightning mark—and moved his fingers further down. 

Two fingers skimmed over the red now. It should've looked a bit odd, the dissonance between the scar and skin, where the sleek scar divided his arm, made harsh lines segmenting his hair and making it patchy. But Xander found it absolutely enthralling now. He was glad that he had never run into Ryoma in any public baths when they were both princes. If any time other than this were his first time seeing the scars, he would've had a poor view of them. 

Xander reached Ryoma’s elbows and cupped them in his palms, leaning in to kiss his jaw, then pulled back and looked at him. Ryoma seemed to be enjoying the attention a bit too much. Ryoma looked annoyingly smug for someone with a line of drool drying on his cheek because he had a fucking tie in his mouth. Xander scoffed. “As if you haven’t traced over my scars.”

Not with as much care and attention as Xander did though, Ryoma managed to say with just the tilt of his head. It must’ve been a Hoshidan ability. Xander started unbuttoning his jacket. He slipped it off and put it on top of Ryoma’s and Ryoma pulled his tie loose. He tossed it on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Ryoma moved slowly, painfully unfamiliar with how to do it efficiently. Xander didn't mind, entertaining himself with Ryoma, his chest, his arms, his scar.

The heat hadn't faded, they just moved slower. It was just the tide pulling in. It would flood them soon enough, but until then, they just focused on touching, hands to skin. Ryoma's brush of fingers against skin like fire, Xander's hands moving against Ryoma's chest almost possessively in an attempt to feel and touch, Xander's blood echoing Ryoma’s name. Ryoma's breathing seemed loud.

Ryoma reached his vest and started unbuttoning that, and Xander trailed his hands down from Ryoma's chest, over his stomach. He toyed with the hair below Ryoma's navel before undoing his pants and belt. Ryoma’s fingers stalled and then tried to move even faster. 

“You’re going to rip the buttons off.”

Ryoma made a noise behind the gag that sounded like whining.

Xander leaned in and whispered into Ryoma’s ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Slowly.”

Ryoma groaned and pressed his knuckles against Xander’s stomach. Xander gently bit his ear and unzipped his pants, sliding his pants off his hips a bit so they hung loosely. Ryoma seemed very close to just giving up and ripping his clothes off. Xander decided to take pity on him and pulled back, popping the buttons open. Ryoma slid his hands over Xander’s chest as he opened the shirt and slid both shirt and vest off and put them both on the dresser. It was getting crowded, clothes piled on top of each other. The pants wouldn’t last. 

Ryoma brought Xander’s attention back to him by putting his hand on Xander’s crotch and squeezed softly. Xander moaned, felt it shiver down his spine. “I suppose you’d like me to hurry up.”

Ryoma shrugged and squeezed again. Ryoma found a way to be talkative with a gag in his mouth. Ryoma only moved his hand so Xander could undo his pants. “Shoes,” Xander muttered and Ryoma rolled his eyes as they both bent over to remove their shoes and placed them next to each other by the door. They straightened, and Ryoma immediately pulled his pants down and stepped out of them, and moved his hands to Xander’s hips. Xander chuckled and put his hands next to Ryoma’s and slid his pants down to the floor. He stepped out of them, picked his and Ryoma’s pants up, then walked away to the table. He pulled out the two chairs and folded his pants on one seat, then Ryoma’s on the other. There was a thump behind him. Xander turned, but it looked like Ryoma just slammed his head back against the wall. Xander walked back to Ryoma, Ryoma slid his hand up Xander’s arm, and Xander picked up the pile of clothes and walked back to the chairs, starting to fold their mess.

Ryoma knocked on the wall. 

"I'm nowhere near you, you can remove your own gag." Xander still appreciated it though, asking for permission when he could just take. It was nice to see Ryoma—high prince of Hoshido, deadly swordsman, chosen wielder of Raijinto—like that.

Ryoma pulled the gag out of his mouth. "Stop being so preoccupied with clothes and get over here."

"I'm not going to abandon you, Ryoma."

"Marx."

"I'm simply making sure our clothes look proper."

"That doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You're far too good looking to be walking around in wrinkled clothes." Xander paused mid-fold. He didn't think he ever mentioned Ryoma's physical appearance.

It didn't slip past Ryoma's notice. "Ah, really?"

Xander needed to deflect. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. I'd be a fool not to notice." That wasn't deflecting.

“You should get back over here then.”

Xander was on the shirts. “And what good would that do?”

“You can show me then how much you appreciate me.”

“Just wait,” Xander said, folding the jackets. Something soft bounced off his back. Xander looked over his shoulder and saw Ryoma's boxers crumpled on the ground. He looked back up at Ryoma. “Really?”

Ryoma shrugged. “You wanted to fold stuff so badly.”

Xander half wanted to take off his own boxers and throw them at Ryoma and half wanted to march over to him and grind their cocks together. It was impressive and concerning how easily the two thoughts existed together. Xander sighed and pushed his boxers off his hips. Xander kicked both of their boxers underneath the chair and walked back over to Ryoma. 

Ryoma slid his hands over Xander's arm and up to flatten his hands on his shoulder blades as Xander leaned in to kiss him. That was enough to rekindle that frantic heat and he pushed Ryoma flat against the wall. Their tongues wound together, their hands moved frantically, just focused on touching. The rush was back, and when they pulled away to breathe, Xander brought his hand down between their bodies to rub their erections together. Ryoma groaned and dipped his head down to Xander's neck, the plaster of the mask landing heavily before Ryoma tilted his head and mouthed Xander's neck.

Xander wound his hair into Ryoma's hair. “Ryoma. Can I get you to turn around?”

Ryoma chuckled against his skin and moved to brush his lips against Xander's neck. “Taking me against the wall then?”

“Of course.” He pressed his lips to Ryoma's jaw, just under the mask. “If that's all right with you.”

“Of course it is.” 

“Just give me a moment.”

Ryoma pressed his lips against Xander’s quickly. “I’ll be waiting.”

Xander pulled away and moved to the washroom to get the basin and some towels. He almost dropped the bowl when he saw Ryoma, leaning against the wall, legs spread slightly. Xander had watched Ryoma walk away dozens of times before after their meetings. He never put much thought into the thickness of his hair and how it looked draped over his back, how it thinned and brushed against the small of his back. He never considered—even in the past few days when he had seen Ryoma—the width of his shoulders and how good the muscles of his back looked. The combination of the two was almost intoxicating. His mouth felt dry.

Ryoma looked over his shoulder. “Are you going to get over here?”

“I’m coming,” Xander said, putting the basin to the side. He opened up the drawers and found the tin of lubricant, putting it beside the basin. He washed his hands and then slicked his fingers. “Do you want to keep your gag off?”

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

“So you can tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“Penetrating was the one thing you did a lot of, correct?”

“Yes. Seven years ago.”

Ryoma shrugged. “It’s like a sword technique. It’s not something you forget easily.”

“Ryoma, we’re talking about your asshole, not a sword!”

“I’ll be fine, Marx,” Ryoma fit the gag back into his mouth and moved his hands above his head as he braced against the wall.

Xander sighed and slicked his fingers, again, just in case, then spread Ryoma’s cheeks. “Remember to knock.”

Ryoma grunted behind the gag.

Xander sighed and ran his finger around Ryoma’s asshole. Seven years was a long time, he thought, but he remembered the basics. Wait until it yielded to you (“It’s much like sparring that way, milord. Oh! But please be more gentle with me than you are with your sword!”). Move slower than you’d think necessary. He ran his slick finger around Ryoma, prodded gently, then moved his finger in the opposite direction. Ryoma’s fingers shook a bit, but he did relax and Xander’s finger slipped in. “Good, good,” Xander muttered, stroking Ryoma’s hip. He took his time, bending and thrusting his finger deeper, only moving as far as Ryoma’s body would let him. He listened to Ryoma's breathing, waiting until it fell into a comfortable rhythm. The gag made breathing awkward, but he could tell well enough. 

He gently pushed a second finger into Ryoma and felt him shutter in response. Xander moved his hand up Ryoma's side, muttering praises. He didn't think about what he said and didn't hear his own words either, just letting it fall out and flow. He scissored his fingers, felt Ryoma clench around him. Ryoma's breath shuttered out, shaking into a moan. Xander pressed his lips to his shoulder and told himself to keep moving slowly, draw it out. He wanted more, wanted to hurry along and feel how Ryoma would squeeze around his dick. He just focused on how Ryoma reacted, how good it felt to see him clench and unclench his fists, to see his shoulders press together, to hear his muffled moans.

Eventually, he pushed that third finger in. Xander thought that Ryoma’s answering moan sounded like “Marx”. He stretched Ryoma, watching his fingers slip further and further into Ryoma, how he stretched to fit him. “Gods, Ryoma,” Xander muttered. He squeezed Ryoma’s hip. “Gods…”

Ryoma might’ve laughed behind the gag. It was hard to tell. Xander thrust his fingers and curled them. Ryoma’s hips bucked and he made a strangled noise deep in his throat. He curled his hands into fists and relaxed them. Xander put his head on Ryoma’s shoulder. Ryoma tilted his head back, glancing at Xander out of the corner of his eye. There was only a sliver of silver in his eyes, the rest lost in blackness. “How are you, Ryoma?”

Ryoma tilted his head towards Xander’s. 

“Do you want me to fuck you now?”

Ryoma groaned.

“Do you think you’re ready for it?”

Ryoma nodded, quickly, almost frantically. He pushed against Xander's fingers.

Xander wanted to kiss Ryoma and settled for nuzzling his neck and licking the sweat there. He pulled his fingers out, stretching him one last time. He washed his hands clean and began slicking his erection, coating it thoroughly with lube. He slid his hand down Ryoma’s back before settling on his hips. He held his dick in one hand and slowly pushed inside of Ryoma. He tried not to focus on what it felt like being enveloped in Ryoma’s ass, in tight warmth. He was still out of practice and the last thing he wanted to do was come early, barely even inside of him. He concentrated on how Ryoma sounded, how he was reacting. Ryoma pushed into the wall, a low groan his throat. Xander wrapped his hand around Ryoma’s dick and gently stroked him. He was still hard. That was comforting. 

He pushed further in, then crumpled in and pressed his forehead against Ryoma’s back. “Damn…” Xander muttered. Nothing could compare to this, to Ryoma’s warmth pressing around him, almost too much pressure.

Ryoma’s shoulders rumbled as he laughed. Apparently Xander had said that out loud. Xander pulled out and pushed further in, enjoying how Ryoma’s laughter cut off into a strangled moan. Xander held his hands on Ryoma’s hips and focused on the movements, slow thrusts that gradually pushed deeper. He was panting and his legs felt like they were shaking. He was not going to last. Yesterday was quick, but Ryoma had at least drawn it out for him.

Xander breathed, in for five, out for five. He needed to calm down, edge himself away from that orgasm. He slid his hands over Ryoma’s body, one up to his chest, the other circled around his dick. He stroked him, slid his thumb over Ryoma’s head. His other hand played with his nipple, rubbed it between his thumb and his finger. Ryoma moaned, pressed back into Xander’s dick. Xander resumed thrusting, a bit quicker than before. It was easier to keep a rhythm now, but he still found himself bent over Ryoma’s back, panting onto his neck. 

Ryoma was loud, loud enough that Xander was sure someone passing by the door could hear him. But he was still gagged. Something burned inside of Xander, and that wasn’t enough. He sounded wonderful muffled, but Xander remembered his voice the previous two nights, the constant stream of words, of praises. Muffled wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Xander reached around and pulled the tie out of his mouth and let it fall to their feet. Ryoma looked over his shoulder. “Marx?”

“It turns out that I like hearing your voice more than I thought,” Xander said, leaned in and kissed Ryoma when he moved his hand behind Xander's head and pulled him down. It wasn't the cleanest kiss they had (it was more like undignified slobbering) but Xander didn't care, continuing to stroke his dick. 

When they pulled away, Ryoma muttered something in Hoshidan against his lips. The he came back to Common. “Hurry up, Marx.” He moved his hand down to his erection and nudged Xander's hand out of the way. He bent his head as he began pumping his length. 

Xander held Ryoma's hips and focused just on thrusting, pushing deeper, making Ryoma suddenly moan when he kept nudging against his prostate. He was lapsing often, but Xander could make enough sense to hear him muttering how good everything felt. Desperation coated his every word. Xander wished he could last longer, but Ryoma’s warmth around him was too much, how he clenched when Xander thrust deeply, his moans and muttered words. He wanted to draw it out, wanted to stay in Ryoma's warmth. He wanted to keep pleasuring Ryoma.

But it was over too soon. He curled over Ryoma's back and shook as he came. He pressed his body flat against Ryoma's back, panting into Ryoma's hair, staying like that for a few long moments before he moved again. He slid his hands up Ryoma's chest, massaging gently until Ryoma came.

Ryoma muttered something with enough repetition that Xander thought he might’ve been talking about him. Then Ryoma slowly pushed Xander back with a groan and turned around so Xander could lean against his shoulder. “You'll smother yourself that way,” Ryoma said. He pressed a kiss to Xander's hair. “I take it that was good?”

“It was very good.” Xander leaned up and kissed Ryoma, stroking his cheeks. “Though I may throw my back out if we have sex standing up again.” He was barely joking. He didn't know what made sex exhausting, but he certainly didn't feel like a fearsome paladin afterward.

“Well we can't have that. You're far too young to act that old. But is that gray I see?”

“Shut up. Go clean yourself.”

“Why should I go first?”

“I'm not the one with cum leaking out of my asshole.” Xander finally pulled away and slapped Ryoma's arm.

“I don't see how it's my fault if you come so much.” Ryoma kissed Xander before he could form a rebuttal and walked to the washroom. Xander walked over to the dresser and leaned against it. He remembered it was the fifth night. If only the masque could've ended tonight. This would've been a nice ending to his and Ryoma's relationship.

Xander turned to the basin and washed his hands, just to have something to do. It wasn’t the last night though. It'd continue on. Xander could handle that. Getting used to Ryoma would make the end harder, but it was just sex. He'd last.

Ryoma walked back into the room and Xander walked past him. Ryoma grabbed Xander's wrist and kissed him before letting him go, brushing his thumb along his pulse. Xander cleaned the sweat off his body, adjusted his hair, how the mask fit. He could still feel Ryoma against his skin.

Xander came back into the room. "Marx," Ryoma started, and Xander climbed into bed next to Ryoma. He paused and shifted towards Ryoma's warmth, turned to face him. Ryoma pulled him closer by his hip, ran his thumb over the bone. "You didn't need convincing this time."

"I figured it was inevitable." He punctuated it with a smile and Ryoma relaxed too. "You're surprisingly talkative."

"I enjoy conversation."

"I noticed. I find it's hard to have a conversation during sex, though you certainly seem to try."

"Especially if you if you don't listen to me. I'm not having a conversation, I'm complimenting you."

"Forgive me if I can't keep track of what you're saying when you can't even stick to one language."

Ryoma stared for a long time. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"I didn't realize…" Ryoma muttered, his cheeks flushed. "I just…kept switching?"

"Midsentence. Common, to Hoshidan, and back again. How did you not realize?"

"I just didn't."

"It's an entire language."

"I'm aware. But the shift is hard to avoid. I think in Hoshidan because that's what I grew up hearing. My first word was 'hai'—'yes'—and I learned how to speak Hoshidan first."

Xander tried to remember when he was a child, when he first met Ryoma. He didn't remember noticing an accent. He just remembered him being loud. "Your Common is impeccable though."

"It should be. I learned both at the same time, really. Hoshidan is just how I think, what I consider my default. Most of the time, I speak Common, purely for necessity. Do you not know Nohrian?"

"No, I do," Xander said. He found Ryoma's hand and ran his fingers over his knuckles. "I've never found myself stuck though."

Ryoma held Xander’s hand. "Say something to me in Nohrian," Ryoma said, and Xander couldn't help stiffening. "I never see any Nohrian. Everything is in Common."

"Well that's…ah."

Ryoma frowned. "Marx?"

Xander shook his head. “Perdonami. Non preoccuparti.”

Ryoma touched Xander's hair. "Marx."

"It's nothing to worry about."

"Marx."

Xander shook his head, then rolled Ryoma onto his back, straddling his hips. "I'd rather do something more productive."

"Distracting me with sex? Really?" He pulled Xander back down against him, rolled them back onto their sides. "I'd rather hear what's bothering you."

"It's inappropriate pillow talk."

"Nevertheless," Ryoma said while he ran his finger over Xander's lips. "Please."

Xander sighed, thought where to start. "Like Hoshidan, Nohrian has a glyph form of writing alongside the phonetic spelling." He wrote 'Xander' on Ryoma's chest, then erased it with his thumb. Ryoma smiled at the gesture. "There are dozens of people who know the written alphabet in all of Nohr. A larger percentage know our language, but Common is far more prevalent. I cannot go into a city and expect anyone to respond in Nohrian if I greet them." Xander sighed and closed his eyes. "Like everything else Nohrian, our language is dying."

Ryoma was silent, didn't move at all. 

Xander shook his head and looked up at Ryoma. "I told you this was inappropriate pillow talk."

"Well, we haven't done anything appropriate this entire time," Ryoma said, slowly. "Do you mind talking more about it?"

Xander laughed, sharp and cruel. "Really?" It was ridiculous to have the conversation naked together, with Ryoma’s hand tracing over his skin.

"Yes. I've…I've never heard of that."

"It's not surprising."

"I have close contact with many Nohrians."

Xander knew that. It didn’t change anything. "It's not surprising. Do you really expect anyone to mention that Nohr's culture and way of life has been on the brink of extinction for decades?"

"Fair point…" Ryoma muttered. "Decades. Would you tell me more?"

"Why would you want to know? It doesn't matter to you."

"Yes it does. Marx, it matters."

And that burned him, and he couldn’t forget that this was the high prince of Hoshido in front of him. "If it truly mattered, then this conversation would not even exist."

"Marx…"

Xander sighed, rubbed his head.

"Marx, can you explain for me?"

"What's there to explain? I know that Hoshido knows that Nohr suffers. How could they not? We have long winters and cool summers. How could you miss that? It’s a basic observation. How could you not make the connection, understand how that ravages our country? Famine is familiar for all citizens. Our environment seems more rock than soil. Food production is low. Did you know that there is a tribe within our borders that have known nothing but snow? Could you believe that they still find a way to grow things and survive in that environment? That is what Nohrians do: We survive where we have nothing. Nohr doesn't have enough natural resources to trade and support our people at the same time. But we have mines. Gods, do we have minerals. So conquest is our primary export."

"It seems cruel to phrase it that way," Ryoma said, finally, after just staring for so long. 

"But it's true. Our hardships make us stronger, even those in the rich elite who should know nothing but comfort. We have enough materials to forge armor and weapons, and forge we do. We then push outward, engulf others, take their resources and support Nohr. It does have its consequences, however."

"Yes, other than the pesky moral consequences of conquering a nation."

Xander gave Ryoma a withering look. "All the tribes and countries that we have taken in our country’s history become Nohrians. Some leave their tribes and move to other cities, and their home culture spreads that way. Generations ago, this was fine. There was something then that was distinctly Nohrian. Our operas, our literature, those are the purly Nohrian. For a time, our artwork was the same. But that has begun to wane. Our culture is not what it was, to be Nohrian is not the same. First, our language fell out of favor. With so many tribes, communication was necessary, and Common naturally became our first language. Of course, before that the written word just stopped being necessary, was seen as a detriment. It was harder to learn, being a different alphabet. If you read Nohrian, you had to have time to dedicate your life to it. And if you have time for something like that, you must have money. I fear that is the path our spoken language is heading as well.”

"But it's your language. It shouldn't be locked out like that."

"But it is. That’s what has happened. And then Nohrian culture itself just…fell into decay. I couldn’t look at a history book and point out when exactly it happened. It was gradual. Other cultures eroded what was a distinctly Nohrian style of art, and it has come to our architecture as well. I notice it in every town, can see the differences. You probably wouldn’t though.”

“I haven’t,” Ryoma said. “So what is the modern Nohrian image?”

“There is no such thing as modern, I think. Nothing that can be easily comparable to the past, especially not considering how Hoshidan culture has evolved from what I have seen. I envy you in that way. Your culture, your ideas of traditional are so strong. You’ve evolved, but you’re Hoshidan.” Xander broke off and shook his head. “But Nohr’s modern image…There’s something similar, perhaps. I’d hesitate to call it cultural, but it’s poetic, in a way. Fitting for what Nohr has become. We have our underground cities. Every city where you can look down an alley and see a thief lurking in the back has an underground system. Every city. Because the outside world can be harsh, both in weather and with an abundance of thieves trying to survive the only way they know how, those of the middle and lower classes have taken to constructing a life under the surface. It’s a whole other world down there, and it can be one that those of higher classes can’t effectively associate with, though my siblings and I have found our ways to blend in. Things that are quintessentially Nohrian is associated with the elite, however."

"Because only nobles and scholars can devote their time to study it…" Ryoma muttered and turned onto his back. "Literature can’t be easily read. Operas, if I remember from my own travels, are expensive to acquire tickets for. So if operas and your literature are locked out, then…"

"Nohr's culture has been on the verge of dying, just from being forgotten by the public. That's why commoners are here, to engage them in Nohrian culture in its purest, most grandiose form, show them it before we die out completely. Many nobles have been conscripted by the royalty to help show off the culture both during the day and at night so these commoners can return home and share their experiences and hopefully spark some interest. How far that will go, I have no way of knowing. 

“But it isn’t culture just that’s dying, it’s Nohr itself. People starve during the winter. Villages become populated by corpses. We don’t have enough food no matter how we stockpile. We do the math again and again and we know there’s not enough corners to cut. And since the treaty with Hoshido has limited how we trade, we have even less leeway. We push the wording of the treaty, move into other countries when we can in order to get supplies, but it will never be enough."

Ryoma was silent, his hand tracing the veins on Xander's arm. "I never knew."

"I know."

"I empathize. However, you can't expect that to absolve Nohr's actions."

Xander put his arms on the bed and pushed himself up. "Really? We're really doing this now?"

"Why not?" Ryoma sat up too.

"Well we're both naked."

"Nohr's actions have pushed refugees to Hoshidan borders."

"Could you at least listen to me?"

"I have been, clearly, now you listen: Your situation is terrible, far worse than I have ever imagined. I empathize, I understand. But you seem all to eager to make Hoshido out to be the villains for a strict treaty. Why would Hoshido still have hatred for Nohr and want strict policies? People flee from Nohr to Hoshido because of your country's oppressive actions, because of your conquest. We hear from these refugees what your country has done, and we still hear them today from scavengers doing what is seen as the Nohrian way. We’ve heard them for generations. Your survival has come through killing others."

"And what would you have us do when our neighbors would turn a blind eye to us?"

"If you had just told Hoshido, then we would have—"

"If you had gotten your head out of your ass and noticed—"

"How were we supposed to notice if you never show—"

"The last devastating famine was fifteen years ago.”

"I was eleven, what did you expect me to do?”

“It ravaged our country. Do you know how many people died?”

“What do you expect me to do now?"

"Gods, have some foresight maybe? Realize that if it happened in the past, it could and would happen again?" Xander and Ryoma stared at each other for a long moment. Anger burned between them. “Justice is an illusion,” Xander continued, “because it there was such a thing, then the noble and honorable Hoshido wouldn't have let this happen in the first place. But they did, so justice is just a way to justify their actions and pretend that they have more morality then anyone else.”

Ryoma finally spoke. "I've been to Nohr frequently. Until you mentioned the underground cities, I had no clue they existed. This is one secret that Nohr has hidden. That seems to be Nohr in general. Nohr is a harsh and brutal exterior that hides something completely different underneath. You cannot be surprised that our country does not know Nohr's struggle."

“We’ve asked for aid. We’ve been refused.”

“We had thought the worse from you. We never knew the extent of your struggle.”

“Well now you do. Does that even mean anything?”

“Marx,” Ryoma said, slowly. “I understand your attitude. I will understand if you will refuse me, if you will be angry, but you have to trust me. You have to trust that I am taking you seriously. Marx.”

Xander didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

Ryoma continued. “I never was aware of the hardships Nohr faced, at the very least not the depth of it as you have explained. I use the word hardships because that was all I thought it was. Cold winters, bad harvests. Things everyone faces and recovers from. What you’ve been describing is the death of a country, a slow starvation. And it is unacceptable that it has gone on for generations without Hoshido’s interference. We have an overabundance of resources, and I would gladly share them with you if I could.”

Xander stared. Ryoma had to be lying. It sounded too good to be true. But Ryoma just stared back at him. “What is holding you back?”

“The fact that I am just one man.”

Xander dug his fingers into his palm to keep himself from yelling that he was the high prince.

“I can—and believe me, I will—see what I can do, but we are talking about decades of discontent from both sides. Hoshido—” he stopped himself and closed his eyes. Xander put his hand over Ryoma’s. He didn’t know why he did that. Ryoma tilted hand and ran his fingers over Xander’s palm. “Hoshido is afraid of Nohr. Gods, how many border skirmishes have I lived through, have I fought in? It was even worse in the past, before the treaty, when Nohr would just push and push and leave blood in their wake. At least, that was how it was always told to me. Every time I’ve met with someone from Nohr, even as a child, I was warned to never let my guard down lest I end up stabbed in the back. Nohrians are cold, and all of them are trained warriors. That’s what I have been told time and time again. I have had no reason to doubt them, no matter how many interactions I’ve had. We hear stories of the brutalities of the Nohrian army towards their tribes through the refugees that flee to our borders.”

“Outliers—”

“You cannot claim that and pretend that that are no consequences.”

Xander was silent. “So Hoshido sees all of us as just barbaric killers.”

“Simply put: yes. I know it is wrong, but it is an image that has stuck. The fact that Nohrians have been just barely following the treaty set by Hoshido does not help. Though considering how little the treaty has benefited Nohr from what you are implying, I can understand.” Ryoma curled his hands around Xander’s and stared at it. “Which is the problem we have.”

“It’s not just a matter of one country,” Xander muttered, rubbing his thumb against Ryoma’s skin. His other hand sat limp at his side.

“It’s not. But I want to make a difference, once I know more, understand more than just from a conversation, understand the facts. Our country is rooted in tradition, but I do not want to be a traditional man. I want to move forward and not let the past shape me and keep me like this. I want to do more for our futures.” Ryoma looked up at Xander and Xander stared back, and for a long moment, it was just two of them and their thoughts.

Xander let out a breathy chuckle. “I told you this was horrible pillow talk.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly on the pillows anymore,” Ryoma pointed out. He put his hand on the side of Xander’s head and lowered him back down to the bed.

“And you still want to kiss me after that,” Xander said, not a question but a bland observation.

“Of course. Consider it your charm.” Ryoma pressed his lips against Xander’s quickly, just for the contact. He braced himself on his elbow and looked down at Xander. “I’m sorry.”

“For wanting to kiss me?”

“For Nohr.”

Xander closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “None…none of this…is your fault.”

“Perhaps. But I’m sorry that it took a pretty boy in bed with me to realize what was going on.” Ryoma’s thumb ran over his cheek.

“That’s still not your fault.”

Ryoma hummed and leaned down and kissed Xander again. Xander closed his eyes and slowly kissed him back. Ryoma pulled away and stared down at Xander. His wild hair flowed over his shoulder and drifted on the bed behind him, thick and heavy. Xander wanted to run his hands through it, to hold him. Ryoma moved his hand and ran his thumb over Xander’s lips. “Marx.”

“Yes?”

“I—” he left his mouth open, then snapped it closed. “We should get going.”

“Yes. You’ll need help getting dressed.”

Ryoma rolled his eyes, pressed his hand against Xander’s face and pushed him away before getting out of bed. Xander chuckled and followed Ryoma and helped him get dressed, a similar pattern to how they did it last night, Xander trying to get Ryoma’s clothes on and Ryoma being unhelpful by kissing him between words.

“I’d like to hear you say more Nohrian,” Ryoma blurted out. “Especially since I’ve apparently been blabbering in Hoshidan to you multiple times.”

Xander focused on Ryoma’s buttons. “To be fair, I haven’t been able to hear you too clearly considering one of us has to be balls deep in the other for you to lose yourself that way.”

Ryoma tilted Xander’s chin up and they kissed again. “I could start seducing you in Hoshidan if you like.”

“I don’t speak Hoshidan. What do you expect to accomplish?”

“It’s the sentiment that matters. And the tone.”

“You don’t have to. But what would you have me say?”

“You could seduce me.”

“I think I’d prefer a language you’d understand, thank you.” Xander picked up Ryoma’s tie and frowned at it. Soaked with drool and wrinkled. That couldn’t be fixed. He folded it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat.

"You could just say whatever's on your mind then," Ryoma said, tilting his neck up so Xander could undo his collar, kept his chin up as Xander traced his fingers down his throat.

"You won't know what I'm saying."

Ryoma shrugged. "That hasn't stopped me." He brushed his hand over Xander's cheek. "Marx."

Xander sighed, leaned into his hand. “Sei la più grande, dannatissima seccatura in cui io abbia mai avuto il piacere di incappare.” Xander leaned in and kissed Ryoma. “Sfortunatamente, sei anche la cosa migliore che mi sia capitata in molto, molto tempo.” Xander looked at him. "How was that?"

Ryoma smiled. “Very good. Tomorrow, then?”

“Of course.” Xander put his jacket on and walked over to the door, holding it open for Ryoma. “I’ll see you then.”

Ryoma walked past Xander and then squeezed his hand where it rested on the doorframe. He stared at Xander for a long moment, then said nothing and walked away. Xander wondered what he was going to say.

He supposed it didn’t matter. He walked down the stairs and entered the masquerade again, a mingling of people and cultures colliding sometimes gracefully, and other times not.

The night passed, and Xander was calm. Conversation didn't come easily still, but Xander wasn't overwhelmed by it. He couldn't help talking about the music, the cultural significance. Ryoma's influence prevailed, their conversation still fresh in his mind, impossible to shake. He wanted to share what he had learned, brainstorm further, see what he could do for the tribes that simmered discontent in their borders, how he could help them so they weren’t afraid for their lives just because Nohr wanted to survive. He's have to share his thoughts with Leo later, once he found a way to say it without saying it happened naked in a bed. 

He didn't see Ryoma again until near midnight. He hadn't been looking for him. His night had been fulfilled, urge sated. There was no reason to see him. But when he saw Ryoma on the dance floor, he stopped and stared, but it wasn't just because of Ryoma this time. It was a scheduled dance to a Hoshidan song, and the dance floor was filled with Hoshidans, smiling and enjoying their own music. There were some Nohrians as well, trying to keep pace, learning from their neighbors.

Elise was one of them. 

And she was with Ryoma.

They were dancing together. Xander could see Ryoma's mouth moving. He seemed to be instructing her, and Elise nodded furiously. He was smiling softly, fondly, like how Xander saw him sometimes when he was with his own siblings. Elise was smiling too, laughing as her feet moved to unfamiliar steps. Xander watched them dance, Ryoma smiling gently, Elise always in the midst of laughter. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The song ended, and they stepped apart and bowed to each other, then stepped back together and continued to talk. Ryoma said something and Elise puffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot on the ground. She was lecturing him. Ryoma looked appropriately shamed, scratching the back of his neck. They were gentle, close, could’ve been siblings. He wondered if Ryoma recognized Elise, recognized those purple streaks, the length of her hair. He wondered if that would’ve changed anything. Ryoma was smiling at his sister. He was being so kind and gentle to her, when every other Nohrian sibling had been nothing but cruel to him and his family. Even Elise pushed too hard sometimes. But right then, it didn’t seem to matter. Gods, they could’ve been siblings with how close and fond they were.

Xander curled in on himself and dug his fingers into the soft space in the crook of his elbow. The room was shrinking down to just him and the view in front of him. He must've been having a panic attack. It didn't feel the same, but it was the only explanation he had. His chest was tight. He couldn't look away from Ryoma. He couldn't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nohr and Hoshido's political situation is _complicated_ and both countries have the right to feel whatever way about the other, and both of their motivations, I feel, are right. It's a complex situation to just brush over and take a glimpse at, let alone to try to write about. I've tried my best to display that situation, and I've combed over that pillow talk segment multiple times and rewrote it quite a bit to make sure I conveyed the complicated situation in a respectful way given the still very relevant subject matter, but it is complicated, so I do apologize if it ended up being handled improperly.
> 
> THAT BEING SAID
> 
> The lovely tumblr user [khalyelyn](khalyelyn.tumblr.com) provided the translations, as an actual Italian so no one has to read google translate!
> 
> Translations for Xander's two lines:
> 
> _Perdonami. Non preoccuparti_ =Sorry. Do not worry.
> 
> _Sei la più grande, dannatissima seccatura in cui io abbia mai avuto il piacere di incappare. Sfortunatamente, sei anche la cosa migliore che mi sia capitata in molto, molto tempo._ =You are the biggest damned nuisance I've ever had the pleasure of being around. Unfortunately, you are also the greatest pleasure I've had in a long, long time.


	7. The Sixth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wide-eyed, you look at me.  
> Set on fire in a silver dream  
> Spin around, you can feel the breeze  
> Count one, two, three

Xander made sure to track Elise down the next day. It was rather easy, considering she didn’t have any daytime duties to attend to. She was eating breakfast later than the rest of them. She was just with her retainers, chatting happily with them. Xander walked in and stood on the other side of the table. He smiled at her, and she lit up as well. “May I join you?”

“Of course, of course! Arthur, move so he can sit next to me.”

“Of course, Lady Elise!” Arthur declared before attempting to stand, and ultimately crashing back down into the floor as two of the chair legs gave out. Xander coughed into his hand as Elise and Effie helped Arthur orient himself properly.

Xander pulled another chair over and rubbed Elise's head. “Eating late, I see.”

“Well, I woke up late.” 

“Then I hope you got enough sleep last night.”

Elise laughed. “Yeah, I did.” She stared and then shifted. “This isn't a fun conversation, is it?”

Xander grimaced. “I'll admit, I have ulterior motives.” He was silent, took handful of berries from the platter and plucked them off their vine. “Did you realize that you were dancing with Ryoma last night?”

Elise stared at him blankly. “Xander. Have you seen his hair?”

“Yes, Elise. I have seen his hair.”

“Okay, but have you really?”

“Yes, Elise, I am intimately familiar with his hair.”

She seemed confused by his word choice.

“So you knew it was him. Did he realize it was you?”

“Yeah. He said a bit later that he talked to me because he knew it was me. He wouldn't be comfortable otherwise.”

Xander stared at her, trying to connect what he knew of the high prince and what he knew about Ryoma to Elise's story. Ryoma wasn't cruel. He couldn’t deny that anymore. But it never crossed his mind that he'd care about his family. Elise sometimes struggled to use the right words, but she seemed certain that Ryoma wouldn’t be comfortable talking to someone that wasn’t her. It did not make sense. “You might need to start from the beginning.”

Elise sighed and leaned against Xander's shoulder as she poked at the rice she had in her bowl. “I dunno…I was just watching the dance and Ryoma walked up to me and we started talking. I mentioned how I wanted to know how to dance to the Hoshidan stuff and he offered to teach me and then we talked until the planned dance and then we danced.”

“And after?”

“We exchanged names. He actually told me his real name, can you believe that?”

Xander hummed.

“So I gave him a lecture. I think it was a good one. I tried to say what you'd say.”

“Ah.”

“He tried to say that if you spelled his ‘Ryoma’ with a ‘u’ in it, then it’d be a different name altogether. I think he really struggles making jokes. And…that's it.”

“That’s it?” It didn’t feel like enough.

“I guess? I mean, Ryoma didn't like the idea that there wouldn't be anyone else who'd use their real name. I mean, he seemed kinda distressed, but in that Hoshidan way of never showing emotion. We talked a bit more, then he left. But yeah, that's it.” Elise kept her head on Xander's shoulder and grabbed a pastry and took a bite. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.”

“Okay, but there is.”

Xander sighed and dropped the berries—now slightly crushed—onto Elise's plate. He rubbed Elise's hair softly. “Ryoma isn't someone who should be trusted so easily.”

“No.”

“Elise—”

“Why can’t he be trusted? He hasn’t done anything wrong. He isn't scary. He isn't mean. He's not a bad person. I know you guys don't like each other, but he's never hurt any of us.”

“I realize. I'm just being cautious.”

“Well don't be. It's okay.”

Xander wasn't sure he could be. He almost wished he wasn't wearing his armor so he felt like he could breathe level again. “Do you think you’d be able to talk to him now, without the mask and he’d be as kind to you?”

Elise tilted her head, pressed her eyebrows together.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“He’s been stiff, but he’s never been mean. Everyone else sets him off. It’s kinda like our family and Kamui. Nobody really hates Kamui. Everyone’s snapped at her before, it’s not against her, it’s because of everyone else. Get it?”

Xander believed Elise, but he had never seen Ryoma kind in any capacity before the masque. At a distance, smiling a bit at his siblings, a face that always hardened whenever Xander was near. It was all too easy to think of Ryoma as someone who didn’t care about Nohr in any capacity. He never had any smiles to spare for them, for their country, for the operas that he was invited to. He was cold, stonefaced.

And then there was last night. And then there was last night, Ryoma’s fingers tracing over veins while he listened and he cared and what did that even mean? Xander wasn’t sure if he could believe him, not when it felt like a passing fancy. It couldn’t be anything else. This was a masquerade. Everything that happened when masked had no consequences. In the end, what could Marx mean in a week’s time to the high prince? What weight did a masked man’s promise to do more have?

But Elise believed that Ryoma was kind, could be kind even without the atmosphere of the masquerade. And Xander wanted that, could feel it pressing against his ribs. Elise dug her finger into his elbow, the small, unarmored place. “Get it?” she asked again, twisting her finger.

Xander was saved from answering when Leo walked into the room, slowly, looking distracted. It was very unlike him. Xander raised an eyebrow as he looked at the two of them. “Is something the matter?” Xander asked.

Leo looked at Xander. “There’s something wrong with Ryoma.”

There was the screech of a chair. Leo raised an eyebrow. Elise looked up at him, concerned. Xander realized that he was standing. “Well? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s not dying if that’s what’s got you so concerned.”

“Well if you phrase it so vaguely, how can I tell?”

“He approached me in the library and asked if we had any almanacs, or anything detailing Nohr’s agricultural history.”

Xander was back in the room, Ryoma naked at his side except for the mask, his hand tracing over Xander’s side, listening intently to Xander explaining Nohr’s history. His promise to do more echoed in Xander’s heartbeat. “And?”

“And I told him. I wished him good luck and he thanked me. You’re looking at me strangely, Xander. Was I not supposed to tell him?”

“I suppose there's no harm in it,” Xander said.

“But I still don't know what came over him,” Leo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was certainly different. Mellow, almost, the kind of Ryoma that you only see at a distance when he doesn’t realize you’re there.” Leo shrugged. “He finally swallowed his pride, I suppose.”

“I guess this means the masquerade really was a great idea,” Elise said, grinning. “I've been able to talk to Sakura a lot more, and Kamui and I talked a couple times too. There's probably hope for Takumi too!”

Leo grimaced. “Doubtful.”

“Well, I'm glad that it's sorted out.” Xander leaned down and kissed Elise's forehead. “Have a good rest of your day, little light. And Leo, may I borrow you for a moment?”

“Borrow away,” Leo said and they exited the room together. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. I just want to discuss hypotheticals.”

“I'm concerned.”

Xander looked at him, then looked forward. “I realize that I'm asking you when neither of us have research materials handy, so I'm only asking for you to draw upon your knowledge, see if it can even be considered as a possibility.”

“Brother.”

Xander thought of Ryoma, their debate. He closed his eyes and sighed. “If we were to give our tribes and territories autonomy, how much would it impact Nohr?”

Leo stopped walking and stared at Xander. Xander expected a glare, but Leo just seemed shocked. When he spoke, he didn’t seem to know how language worked. He stumbled over words. “Xander, do you realize what you’re saying? You’re not drunk, are you?”

“I’m not. Leo, I’m completely serious.”

“Xander, that would likely—gods, why would you consider that?”

Xander sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Leo’s reaction told him that it could spell death for Nohrian citizens, that without the supply of food and supplies for trading, they would wither away. It was something that he knew. But he was still considering it. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Ryoma said. He hated that it took Ryoma to say it, that it wasn’t his own decision. 

It rang true even still, because it was right, because it wasn’t a new thought, it was familiar. It was a feeling that he had in his bones. It was something that he felt every discussion he sat in with his father. It explained why he stood on rickety ground and insisted that it was stable. Now he had a name to it. He had a purpose. Xander looked over at Leo. “I want to change Nohr. I do not want to live this way anymore.”

\---

There wasn’t much Leo could do. They didn’t have their records, no solid way of finding out how bad they’d suffer if they went on their path to change Nohr (Leo referred to it as that, which Xander took as a good sign). Leo said he’d keep it in mind. “But without any other source of food or trade, we have no hope to last a year with our population. We cannot count on Hoshido either.”

He wanted to argue, but it was true. Ryoma could’ve just had a passing fancy. They had more important, more current things they had to focus on. The masque continued. The sixth night. Many had already left, but still most had stayed, and those that stayed needed to be attended to. Their last nights had to be worth it, worth all the effort it took to come to Nohr, worth every interaction.

Xander wore a red jacket that had faint golden patterns sewn in, so faint that it just seemed to glisten slightly until one looked closer. It was a heavy jacket, worn open, showing off the white shirt with similar golden designs, the thread slightly thicker so the patterns could be seen clearly. The tie was bolder than what he usually wore, red with patterns of white roses stamped onto. The pants were loose red with golden embroidery, nothing too fancy. The scuffed shoes stayed.

He wondered what Ryoma would wear. He wondered what Ryoma would think of his outfit.

He pushed that from his mind. He had important things to do before he indulged in Ryoma (because Ryoma was still just an indulgence). He tried to figure out the atmosphere from the masque, what everyone was thinking. Most of the people who were left enjoyed the Hoshidan music, and one woman broke off her conversation with him when a dance ended to ask the orchestra if the next song would be Hoshidan. It was comforting, but he had a feeling most of the people who were offended had already left. Steps.

Time passed, and he found Azura. She was waving goodbye to Kamui—where did her shoes go?—as she slipped into the crowd. Xander walked over to Azura and bowed slightly to her. She laughed a little bit, covering her mouth. She wasn’t wearing a traditional mask, instead a sheer sheet of cloth covering her mouth and neck. Her dress was extravagant, tight black fabric on her torso, feathers sliding down the bottom of her dress, cut uneven so her calf was showing. He smiled softly at her. “May I have a dance?”

“Sorry, but no.”

Xander didn’t take it personally, not when he related. “Overwhelmed?”

Azura nodded. “But please stay and talk.”

“Of course. You seem to be around Kamui a lot.”

“Yes. She’s a surprisingly calming presence. I have been talking to others as well,” Azura added, like she expected him to lecture her. 

“I assumed so.”

“Have you been enjoying yourself?”

“Well enough,” Xander said, deciding to stare at a wall.

“I haven’t seen you around as often as the days pass. Usually, you’re always lurking around somewhere.”

Xander didn’t know if she was implying something or not. He glanced at her, but she looked neutral. She was staring through him. “Well,” he started, didn’t know how to finish.

Luckily, he didn’t have to think of a response. Xander heard someone yelling, heard "Hoshidan traitor" and then another voice joined in. Ryoma's, defending himself. Oh no. Xander turned to Azura, and her eyes were wide. "Could I borrow your voice to calm the crowd?"

"Of course,” Azura said, squeezing his arm before she turned around and started moving towards the stage.

Xander marched toward where the shouting was and caught Leo's eye. He waved Leo over and Leo moved forward, his retainers quickly moving ahead of him to part the crowd in front of him. He saw Camilla towering over the people in front of him. She didn’t need direction. He focused on moving through the thick wall of people as they circled around Ryoma and the other man.

Xander latched onto Ryoma’s voice. “You have a profound misunderstanding of Hoshido—”

“ _I_ misunderstand Hoshido!” the other man yelled, “Rich, considering the filth you’re spewing!”

“Filth? You cannot call it filth!”

“When you’re—”

“Let me finish!”

“Why would I let you finish when you’re—”

“Just because you’re ignorant of Nohr’s problems doesn’t mean that you’re right to ignore everything I’m trying to say!”

Xander pushed harder through the crowd. 

“Do you hear yourself?”

“I know what I’m saying—” 

“What kind of Hoshidan are you? You're no better than Nohrian scum!"

"Enough!" Xander projected and stepped between them. Ryoma had his arm drawn back, ready to hit the noble. He had stopped when Xander stepped between them, his eyes wide. He whispered ‘Marx’, barely audible over the Hoshidan behind him. Leo slipped behind Xander and worked to calm the other noble—not well, considering Leo's status as Nohrian scum—while Camilla and Elise tried to ease the tension in the crowd, and Azura stepped onto the stage to sing, to distract. Everyone was doing their jobs. Xander was still needed on the floor, but his siblings had enough covered to calm Ryoma down and get an explanation from him. Xander turned towards Ryoma and grabbed his forearm. "Upstairs," he said lowly, "Now."

Ryoma let Xander drag him away from the crowd. He was quiet, almost dazed. He led Ryoma upstairs, walked to their usual spot and turned to Ryoma. He didn't let him go, just softened his grip and rubbed where he had held him. He looked Ryoma up and down. Ryoma looked distant, looking at Xander but he felt like he didn’t see him. Xander spoke softly. "What's on your mind?"

Ryoma raised an eyebrow.

"You're uncharacteristically quiet and it has nothing to do with that fight."

Ryoma blinked, shook his head, rubbed Xander's chest. "You just reminded me of a very unpleasant person when you yelled."

Xander stilled. Ryoma was certainly referring to Xander. He was almost yelling there, commanding, being a prince instead of Marx. And Ryoma thought of Xander, so easily made the connection. "Ryoma," Xander started, and he wanted to continue but he didn't know what he wanted to say.

"Don't worry," Ryoma said, leaning up with a smile on his face that Xander was all too familiar with now, "the resemblance is gone now."

Xander put his hand between them and Ryoma’s lips brushed his palm. "Well that's a relief. So now you can tell me what the hell happened back there."

Ryoma sighed and walked over to the railing and leaned over the edge, looking down over the crowd below them. He looked starkly different than previous nights. His jacket was tight against his frame, dark purple with silver trees stretching from the bottom of the jacket. His shirt was black, tucked into slim dark pants. His hair was tied in a low ponytail and secured with a violet ribbon. It was odd to see him like that. Xander moved next to him, their arms touching when Xander crossed his arms over the railing to lean alongside him. Ryoma watched the dance and Xander stared at Elise’s head while Ryoma gathered his thoughts. "It was a civil enough discussion, at first. Small talk. The subject turned to Nohr, and that man started sporting the…well, the traditional rhetoric. Words and phrases I have used before. I regret that I ever said them in the first place. I understand things a bit better now, from my own reflection, you, and my own research. See, I spent my day in the library today, looking through old books and almanacs. I wanted to know as much as I could. A day is not enough, and I fear that even a year would not be enough to fully understand, but it gave me some historical perspective. I drew on that knowledge and what I discovered through our conversation and brought it up. I hoped for a civil discussion. A mutual understanding. He did not react well. As you heard."

"He called you a traitor."

Ryoma laughed. It wasn't bitter though, honestly amused. "He knows so little. About me, about being Hoshidan. It had never been Hoshidan to hate Nohr. It is Hoshidan to help those in need, to protect those who need protecting. To allow Nohr to die as it had been is not Hoshidan. True, the scenes Nohr have painted have made Hoshido push against them, but it is not how it should be.” He scratched a spot on the railing. “I…I want to change. I have been this way for too long. I don’t want to stagnant. I want to grow, to move forward, to be proven wrong and become better because of it. And I want to help Nohr. I want to do whatever I can to leave behind these decades of war. I want to see crowds like this in our cities, mingling without fear. I want to leave behind my own prejudice and help.” He sighed, shook his head and looked at the masquerade below him with a wistful smile. “But it seems that not everyone holds my opinion."

Xander stared at Ryoma for a long while. He was aware of his heartbeat, of the warmth of Ryoma pressed against him. He didn't have any thoughts. He just felt, was, next to Ryoma. Ryoma looked at him, puzzled, and Xander shook his head. "Thank you, Ryoma. The effort you've been putting into this...it means a lot to me."

"I don't think I've seen you so clumsy with words before."

"It's hard to vocalize."

Ryoma smirked and tilted his head towards Xander's, like he was going to kiss him right there where anyone could look up and see them (Xander would've let him). "Does that mean you can show me?"

"And here I thought we were having a moment," Xander said, stepping away from the balcony and back into shadow. Ryoma followed and Xander cupped his face and kissed him gently. It might've been the softest they had ever kissed, and Ryoma didn't even try to deepen it. They pulled away and Xander sighed against Ryoma's lips. "Later."

"Why not now?"

"You caused quite a scene, and one that was quite heated. I need to make sure that people still feel safe when we only have two nights left." Xander pulled away and turned to the staircase.

Ryoma breathed out a laugh behind him. "That sounds like something befitting for royalty to handle."

Xander stopped. He thought of a dozen ways to tell Ryoma the truth. He thought of all the ways Ryoma could refuse him. He chuckled and walked down the stairs. That was the only answer he could bear to give Ryoma. 

\---

Xander ran damage control with the Nohrians after Ryoma’s fight. Many were concerned, feeling that they weren’t welcome or that they weren’t safe. Many weren’t surprised at all, since they were Hoshidans. Xander didn’t know which he was more concerned about. He kept talking, trying to read everyone and figure out how to respond. It was exhausting, but it was his job. He was the crown prince.

He still found himself distracted by Ryoma though, when he found him along a wall. He was talking with a Hoshidan. He glanced across the room, saw Marx, smiled a bit and nodded, then turned back to the Hoshidan. Xander realized that he was doing what Xander and his siblings were doing, easing tensions. Ryoma was a guest. It wasn’t necessary in the slightest. But Xander appreciated it. He found himself staring at Ryoma, even though he was being ignored, taking him in. Ryoma’s smile was that calm, professional one that Xander saw before when he was talking with a servant. It was amazing how honest it looked though. But it was still profoundly different than the ones Xander had been given as Marx. He could categorize the differences, if he wanted to. He could spend the entire night doing that.

Camilla took Xander's arm. "Dear, do you have a moment?"

"Do you?" Xander asked, looking away from Ryoma.

"I've done all the calming I can."

"Then take all the time you need." Xander tilted his head. She was staring at him, her face serious. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm just worried about something." She held up her hand to stop Xander from speaking, then rubbed her chin. "It has to do with Prince Ryoma’s outburst. You took him upstairs. As expected. You should be the one to handle that. Even though you two hate each other.” She fixed him with a look and it chilled him deeper than any ice magic. She spoke slowly, so he knew what she was implying. “I was worried earlier, but I happened to look up at the balcony and I saw you and Ryoma side-by-side."

"Camilla—"

She shook her head and stopped him. "You both were getting along famously. You were touching. Ryoma seemed incredibly open. It's not something you see from him, especially not towards you."

“See, it's quite simple. He doesn't know it's me."

Camilla blinked. "He doesn't realize—"

"He thinks I'm some noble named Marx." Xander laughed and it tasted sour. "It turns out that give a Hoshidan a blond Nohrian and they can't identify them at all."

Camilla narrowed her eyes. "Xander…"

"Your concern is misplaced."

"Why haven't you told him?"

"It hasn't become an issue."

"Xander, he looked like he was going to kiss you up there,” Camilla said and Xander went still. “You looked like you were going to let him. Xander, what have you been doing?”

“Camilla. Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary. There is nothing to worry about.”

“If it continues, I'm sure it will be an issue." 

“But it won’t continue, so there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Camilla sighed. "Xander, I'm sure we've had a conversation similar to this the last time."

"Then there's no reason for us to repeat it."

" _Xander_."

He didn’t want to snap. She meant well. But she was younger than him, and he knew what he was doing. He was not nineteen anymore. He didn’t want his little sister lecturing him. "I'm not a teenager anymore. The masque will be over in two nights. There's nothing to worry about." 

Camilla didn’t respond, just stared down at him. Her face was stern, but as he looked, she shifted and bit her lip a bit. She was so much more emphatic than he was, and she acted like she could feel whatever future pain she envisioned him suffering. 

He sighed. "Thank you for your concern. But there's no need for it. If that’s all, then I have guests to entertain."

She sighed and flipped her hair as she walked past him. "Don't make me say I told you so."

Xander glanced at her, then found his eyes drawn back to where Ryoma was. Ryoma was not Hephaestion. That relationship was never intended to be temporary; it was intended to exist in short bursts. That was the best way for a retainer and lord to exist in a sexual relationship. It worked, until the short bursts grew longer and longer. He and Ryoma could never exist outside of the week window of the masquerade. Camilla worried over nothing.

\---

Xander was talking to another noble when he spotted Ryoma over her shoulder. He nodded absently as the woman talked, but he didn’t hear her. Ryoma was smirking at him, then raised his hand and crooked a finger at Xander. Xander forgot language altogether. He just watched as Ryoma walked up the stairs and didn’t pay attention to the woman in front of him. He blinked at her, then shook his head. “Ah, my apologies. The wine tonight might be too good. I need to leave and clear my head.” He bowed to her and followed after Ryoma. 

Ryoma was waiting at the top of the landing, smirking. “You distracted me,” Xander said as he walked up the stairs.

“Good,” Ryoma replied and cupped Xander’s face when he was close enough and brought him into a kiss. Xander had to tilt his head up a bit to meet Ryoma’s lips.

Xander pulled back a bit, running his fingers over Ryoma’s knuckles. “You’re taller than me.”

Ryoma smirked, and he looked far too proud of himself. “I am.”

“It only took three steps.”

“Shush,” Ryoma said before pulling him back into a kiss. He wasted no time in pushing his tongue into Xander’s mouth, swallowing any more comments. Xander just chuckled, moving Ryoma’s hands so his hands wound into his hair. Ryoma slowly pulled back, gently lacing Xander’s hair in his fist. “Marx,” he muttered, looking down at him. Xander walked up the remaining stairs, stood just shy of Ryoma’s toes. Ryoma tilted his head up to look at him. “Ah, I liked the other view better.”

Xander gripped Ryoma’s ponytail and pulled gently, watched his head arch back. “Really? Because I quite like this.” He leaned down and kissed Ryoma’s neck. Ryoma swallowed and Xander ran his tongue around his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. “We probably should get into an actual room,” Xander muttered against Ryoma’s throat. It felt like an afterthought, for some reason. He’d be fine spending the entire night in the hallway with Ryoma. The privacy wasn’t needed. But he still pulled away and let Ryoma lead him down the halls to their room.

This was the second time they were walking together to the bedroom. There was none of the heat of last night, no desperate need to touch. Ryoma held the door open for Xander, then closed it behind him and locked the door. He stared at the handle, then turned to Xander, walked over to him, and laid his hands on Xander’s neck. Xander moved down and met him in a kiss. It was slow for a while until Xander got impatient and nibbled at Ryoma’s lip until their tongues met. Even then, there was none of the heat from last night. It was all about contact and touching, and they pulled away only slightly, breathing against each other’s lips. 

Slowly, Ryoma pulled back a bit further, staring up at Xander. “Can I talk to you, Marx?” Ryoma asked quietly.

“Of course. You seem to have something serious on your mind.”

“I have a lot of things on my mind.” Ryoma took Xander’s hand and led him over to the bed. “It’s hard not to, after yesterday.”

“I really am grateful. For your effort.”

Ryoma smiled a bit at him. “Thank you.”

Xander wished he could say what he had begun to plan. The words were right there. He had the capability to tell him. He didn’t say anything. Anxiety didn’t hold him back. There was just no way that a noble could do what Xander could do. Not even slightly. He held it in.

Ryoma opened his mouth. “Marx,” then he closed his mouth again and looked forward. He then shook his head. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’s not what you wanted to ask.”

“That is what I’m asking now though.”

Xander sighed. “And what a vague question it is. Narrow it down.”

“I just know so little about you. I know you are a soldier, probably the most skilled in Nohr.”

“Hardly,” Xander muttered.

Ryoma gave him a look, but continued. “And I know that you’re a skilled politician. But do you have any hobbies?”

“I train.”

“I have been informed multiple times that it’s not a hobby.”

“But it’s what I do in my free time.”

“And it’s what I like to do too. But that doesn’t count. There has to be something else. Even I have some lighter actions to fill the day.”

“Like what?”

“I asked first.”

Xander sighed. He pulled Ryoma’s ponytail over his shoulder and wrapped his hair around his finger. “I like playing chess with my siblings, but my brother does it more often than I. I do read for pleasure occasionally. And if you count the scribbles in the corners of reports, I draw too.”

“Wait, you draw?”

“Yes, I believe I just said it. I didn’t realize that it was significant.”

“Draw something for me.”

“You seem to be vastly overestimating my artistic skills. I had an eye for it as a child, but it was never developed, so it is still just a child’s skill.”

“Did you like drawing?”

“I did.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Art is not befitting for someone of my position. It is a waste of time.”

“In Hoshido, samurai are expected to be knowledgeable in the arts.”

“Samurai must have an abundance of free time then. But does that mean that I can see some of your artwork?”

Ryoma laughed. He stood and opened a couple of drawers at the dresser. "I wish I were artistic. It doesn’t come easily to me. I only have talent for calligraphy, sadly." Ryoma smiled a bit. "I cannot make words of my own—at least none with the poetic flair others have—so I find myself borrowing from others. Songs, poems, I take the characters and arrange them, like arranging flowers, find the combination to make them fit. I've borrowed my friend's art as a backdrop, used the characters and filled them in the spaces around it, add to the art. I'd like to use something of yours, see what we can create."

"It’s a pretty idea, but it won’t work. Art is a talent I have, not a hobby. I use it to doodle in the corners of papers when politics become too boring even for me, nothing more."

"A shame then." He came back to Xander’s side and put a pad of paper and a fountain pen on Xander’s lap. “It changes nothing though. I want to see what you’d draw.”

“Ryoma, you’re—”

Ryoma brushed his thumb over Xander’s lip. “Shh. I know. I still want to see.” He moved his thumb to the side and pressed his lips to Xander’s quickly. “Marx,” he muttered as he pulled back.

Xander sighed and brushed off the page. “You’re surprisingly easily entertained.”

Ryoma moved closer, slid one arm behind Xander and braced it next to his hip. He rested his head on Xander’s shoulder. Their legs were pressed together. “Perhaps.”

Xander took in a deep breath. All he could smell was Ryoma. He began to draw. “Talk to me. It’s easier if I just empty my mind and work without thinking. Otherwise, it won’t get done at all.” His hand would move on its own accord then. If he thought too much, he’d linger on everything he knew he was doing wrong.

Ryoma nodded. “Would you teach me how to play chess?”

“It’s not something that can be learned in a day and we do only have a day left.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“A poor topic,” Xander muttered, scratching spikey hair onto the page. Though he didn’t know how the topic would get better, considering who the subject matter of his aimless drawings tended to be. “Tell me about Hoshido.”

“You've been there, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I haven't heard about it through your view. What do you like about Hoshido?”

“It's my home. I love everything about it.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It's true, though. I love the weather, the scenery, the clothes, the music, the weapons, the history…Perhaps I enjoy the old more than the new. Do you not look at something quintessentially Nohrian and find yourself feeling fond?”

“I suppose, though I'm not as enamored as you.”

“Perhaps I'm just more romantic than you.”

Xander huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps.” He bit his lip then. It probably shouldn't have stun. Xander was overthinking it. But it felt like Ryoma was showing off. Ryoma. High prince. Fitting the calm and tranquil portrait of a Hoshidan ruler naturally. An ease that Xander never knew. Xander had always been a bit jealous of Ryoma, how effortlessly he did everything while Xander was born weak in all aspects and had to push and drag himself into a position that still fit like too big shoes. Ryoma seemed to notice something was wrong. He traced his finger down Xander’s jaw, and Xander looked over at him. His stomach was boiling. He thought back to last night, and opened his mouth. “Non preoccuparti. È solo l’ennesimo esempio di come tu sia più adatto a regnare di quanto lo sarò mai io. Tutto qua.” He turned back to the page and stared blankly at the lines of clothes, not connecting them in his head, moving forward all the same.

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you realize you lapsed?”

“I’m not you, Ryoma. Nohrian isn’t constantly on the tip of my tongue.” Xander smirked at him. “I’m doing it on purpose.”

Ryoma frowned. “Not fair.” They were silent a bit longer. “Would you tell me?”

“It was just whatever was on my mind.” Xander shrugged. “It’s not important.” Nothing he ever wanted Ryoma to know. Xander decided to change the subject. “What do you like about Nohr?”

“You.”

Xander was so startled he laughed, and it wasn't until he stopped that the words stung his stomach. “That doesn't count.”

Xander could feel Ryoma shrug. “I haven't given myself enough time to appreciate Nohr. I'll work to fix that.”

“Good. Nohr is wonderful. I do love it.” Xander sighed and pulled the pen away. “I think I’m done then.” He stared down at his drawing. He was seeing it really, for the first time.

Ryoma leaned over his shoulder and smiled. “That’s me.”

Yes. It was. Xander’s aimless sketch had led to Ryoma scratched onto the page. “It’s usually Hephaestion,” Xander muttered. His heart When did Ryoma start filling in the gaps in his thoughts? When did he usurp Hephaestion?

Ryoma’s face became a bit somber. He took Xander’s chin, pushed the papers off of his lap (the pen bounced as it hit the floor and ink splattered a black trail as it rolled away), and kissed him. Right. Just push it from his mind. Don’t think about it. Focus on what was in front of him. Drown in it, in the physical. No more connections. 

Xander grabbed the back of Ryoma’s neck and kissed him back. He dug his nails into Ryoma’s neck, biting Ryoma’s lip. Ryoma groaned and pushed on Xander's shoulder and they lied down together on the bed, their lips never separating. Ryoma's hand moved up to stroke Xander's cheek as they kissed. Ryoma moved further, rolling Xander onto his back as Ryoma moved over him, just resting on Xander. He was so warm, the heat of his chest pressing against Xander's.

They finally pulled away. Ryoma's finger stroked his jaw and he slowly smirked. “I can't believe it took me this long to get to see you like this.”

“And how does it look?”

“Absolutely wonderful. Your curls look fit for a painting when they're under you like that.”

“You look nice too,” Xander muttered. Ryoma's hair was wild around his face. It was never tame, but when he was above Xander, his hair fell down, the ponytail curled over his shoulder, the strands of his bangs nearly brushing his face. Xander reached up and pulled the violet ribbon out of his hair, so the shorter strands fell out of place. The mask held some strands flat, but otherwise, it ran free. Ryoma's face was shaded and that made his eyes somehow seem brighter, like storm clouds with lightning underneath. Xander ran his hands along the sides of Ryoma's face. “Now that is much better.”

Ryoma hummed and moved down and kissed him. He pulled away only briefly, strands of hair falling and brushing Xander’s mask. “What's your favorite feature?”

“Are you being vain now?” Xander pulled Ryoma down into a kiss. “Your eyes,” Xander muttered and Ryoma smiled softly. He wondered how it'd look if Ryoma would look at the crown prince that way, how his brow would soften. Xander grabbed Ryoma's hair and tilted his head so he could kiss the underside of his jaw. “And what about you, Ryoma? What do you like about me?”

Ryoma chuckled, and the laugh vibrated against Xander's lips. “Everything. I could sing your praises for hours.”

“We don't have hours.”

“I'm well aware.” Ryoma shifted his weight and slid his hand down Xander's side, over to cup his crotch. Xander hissed and arced his hips into Ryoma's hand as his thumb pressed against his half-hard erection. “If I had an entire day with you, I’d spend it complimenting every inch of you, every scar.”

Xander shivered under his hand. “Well neither of us have the time for that. So get on with it.”

Ryoma squeezed Xander's erection one last time before he pulled away, replacing it with the weight of his hips. “Your hair,” Ryoma finally said, leaning down to kiss Xander, barely pulling away so his words were breathed against his lips. “It's golden, not just blond like most Nohrians. It feels different from Hoshidan hair. It's sleek. But it still curls.”

“Humidity makes it curl worse.”

“Mmm, are we sure it's worse?” Ryoma kissed Xander, smiling against his lips. The kiss dragged on. It felt like short in the moment, but Xander was breathless when Ryoma finally pulled away, panting against his lips. “I'd compliment you more, but I've got to get you out of these damned clothes first.”

Xander chuckled. “Of course.” He raised his hands to start undoing his tie, but Ryoma grabbed his wrists and slammed them down onto the bed. Xander's heart jumped and he stared as Ryoma bent over him, a smirk twisting his face. 

“Your heart is racing from this,” Ryoma muttered, adjusting his grip on Xander's wrists. Xander pushed up, and Ryoma held him down even firmer and his grip tightened. Ryoma felt stronger than Xander in that moment, looking down at Xander, holding him still. Xander loved how that felt. “Your face is already so pink. It doesn’t take much, does it?”

Xander shivered. Ryoma seemed to delight in how he looked. He only grinned wider. “So you want me out of my clothes,” Xander said slowly, because he couldn’t trust his voice to stay level if he spoke any faster, “but you don’t want me to do it.”

“You act like I can’t get you undressed.”

“You haven’t in the past. Have you been practicing?”

Ryoma chose to kiss Xander instead of answering. Which really, was an answer in of itself. It was kind of adorable. When they pulled away, Xander was smirking up at Ryoma. Ryoma chose to ignore him. “Don't move your hands.”

Xander hummed and didn't move when Ryoma let his wrists go. He watched as Ryoma slipped his fingers under the tie and pulled it loose, slid the tie out from under his collar. Xander stayed still. Ryoma leaned back and pulled his own tie off. He popped the top button undone and let out a breath like he could finally breathe. Xander wanted to touch him. His thumbs twitched and rubbed his hand, as if that was a decent substitute for running them along the tendons of his neck, for pressing against his pulse.

Ryoma didn't seem to notice as he bent down and popped open each button on Ryoma’s shirt. He moved slowly, and if Xander didn't know better, he'd say that it was on purpose. Ryoma stared at each stretch of skin, occasionally brushed his fingers against his chest, as if that certain patch of skin demanded to be touched. He almost forgot how clumsy Ryoma’s fingers were, how uncertain they were. 

It felt good. It was taking too long. He wanted to move. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to reach out and grab Ryoma, help him along. Ryoma reached his waistband and undid his belt and pants button. Xander groaned a bit as Ryoma brushed his crotch and pulled away. “Wait, Marx just wait. I’ll get you, just wait.”

“You need me to move at some point,” Xander said, trying to arch his hips towards Ryoma’s hand. Ryoma pushed his hip down with one hand, untucking his shirt with his other hand. “You might have missed it, but I am wearing suspenders.”

“Did not miss that. Didn’t miss that at all.”

“Well I hope then you realized that I'll have to sit up in order to get undressed.”

“I realized. You're still not allowed to move.”

Xander sighed and watched as Ryoma continued unbuttoning the last few buttons. He spread the shirt open as far as it could go and ran his hands over his chest. Xander closed his eyes and shivered under Ryoma's hands. “The flush spreads down so far,” Ryoma muttered. “You're so pink.” He leaned down and scraped his teeth along Xander's jaw. “It's adorable.”

“Hurry up,” Xander growled. He turned his head, to try to kiss him, but Ryoma moved back and away. “Stop playing.”

“Stop being so entertaining,” Ryoma said back, then sat up. He started undoing his own shirt, with more ease than he did with Xander's. He probably did practice. Xander couldn't bring up enough spite to make fun of him. He wanted to touch, massage his chest, trace aimless patterns over his skin. He didn’t move his hands. But he wanted. Ryoma took his jacket and shirt off, then got off the bed. Xander narrowed his eyes and Ryoma smirked. “I’m just folding the clothes. Isn’t this something you like?”

“Yes. It’s very important to maintain your outfit,” Xander said, dreading how the tables turned on him.

“Well that’s good. Then I’m sure you won’t mind the distance.”

“Of course not.” Xander watched as Ryoma undid his pants and slipped them down with his boxers. He let out a sigh as his erection was freed. Xander groaned. He was straining his neck to see where Ryoma was, how he looked. He still couldn’t move still. He saw Ryoma move his hand down to his erection and wrapped his hand around his length. He moaned and Xander sat up. Ryoma smirked and ran his thumb under his head as he looked over at Xander. “Stop being a tease,” Xander hissed.

“I don’t believe,” Ryoma said, crawling over the bed and pushing Xander’s shoulders back down onto the mattress, “I told you that you were allowed to move.”

“Ryoma,” Xander said. It was infuriating being clothed when Ryoma was naked except for that mask.

“You have to listen to me, Marx.”

Xander put his hand behind Ryoma’s head and pulled him down into a kiss. Ryoma was smiling against his lips. “I’ll listen when you have something worth saying. Move.”

Ryoma laughed and kissed him again. Xander moved his hands over Ryoma’s exposed back, under his hair, over his shoulders, moving down his arms by the time they pulled away. Xander’s fingers rubbed the scar and he watched his fingers slide down his arm, down the path of the red scar. “You seem fascinated with that,” Ryoma muttered.

“It’s certainly a unique scar.” Xander said. He pulled Ryoma down to a kiss. He couldn’t mention Raijinto, and it’d be unavoidable if the conversation continued. So he just focused on his mouth, on moving his hands over Ryoma so he moaned against his lips. They pulled away and Xander ran his thumb down Ryoma’s jaw. “So are you going to continue toying with me?”

“No, I think I will just get on with it.” He scraped his teeth against Xander’s neck and pulled back. Xander’s hands trailed down Ryoma’s arms as he moved away, then fell onto the bed. “Sit up,” Ryoma muttered, and Xander pushed his hands against the mattress and sat up. Ryoma didn’t move away, didn’t leave any room for him. Ryoma’s hair brushed against Xander’s face, against the golden mane. All Xander could see was thick waves of hair alongside him, and the red and white flash of his mask. Xander was cautious of his own breathing, of how close Ryoma was to him. He didn’t want to be too loud. They felt almost too close. Ryoma bent his head as he slipped his jacket off and let it fall behind Xander, then slid the suspenders off his shoulders. The shirt followed, and Ryoma let his hands trace down Xander’s arms. His breath warmed Xander’s neck. When his fingers brushed against Xander’s pulse, he moved to cup Xander’s hips. He raised his head and Xander tilted his chin so they faced each other and kissed him. They pulled away and Ryoma tilted so their foreheads rested against each other, gently, but the sound of their masks hitting felt loud. “Lie back down.”

Xander pushed his clothes to the side and into Ryoma’s arms and laid back down on the bed. His heart pounded in his chest. He really liked how Ryoma looked over him, he realized, then his view was gone as Ryoma slipped off the bed. Ryoma pulled Xander’s shoes and socks off, then tugged his pants and boxers off. He folded them quickly and moved between Xander’s legs. Xander closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Ryoma’s lips brushed against his thighs. Seeing Ryoma like that would've been too much. He focused on the sensation, on how Ryoma felt between his legs.

He was gentle, kissing his skin, breathing softly in between kisses. The warm puffs of breath tickled. “Do you mind if I bite?” Ryoma whispered against his leg. He might've been speaking in his normal tone, but the distance and Xander's heart pounding in his ears muffled Ryoma's voice. He could feel his lips moving though.

“No biting,” Xander finally said. “We have public baths here.”

“And isn't it common courtesy to wear your smallclothes?” He pressed his lips further up Xander's thigh and tilted his head so his cheek rested against his leg. When he spoke, his breath breezed against Xander's erection. He tried to keep still. “If I mark here, no one but us will see it.”

“Ryoma—” Xander gasped, fighting to stay still.

“Or,” he breathed, then kissed further down. “I'll mark just here. Just under where they reach.”

“ _Ryoma—_ ” 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone saw that?”

Xander moved his hand down and wrapped his fingers in Ryoma's hair and tugged. “No biting. No marks.”

“No marks,” Ryoma agreed. “But Marx. Open your eyes for me. Look at me.”

Xander did, slowly. He couldn’t breathe at the sight of Ryoma laying between his thighs, his hands curled over his legs, his face so close to his erection. Xander wanted to sit up, to take that mask off, to see how Ryoma fully looked. It was just a half mask, but so much of his expression was hidden. The arch of his eyebrows, how his face curled when he smiled, so much skin hidden behind a blend of red and white. He wanted to see Ryoma without it. He _wanted_ to see Ryoma between his legs without the mask on. He wanted it so badly that he couldn’t breathe.

Ryoma smirked. “Don’t look away, Marx.” He opened his mouth and slid his tongue up Xander’s erection, from his balls all the way up to the head. Xander tightened his grip in Ryoma’s hair and his hands shook. Ryoma kept eye contact the entire time. Ryoma smirked, ran his tongue against Xander’s slit and pulled away. “Do you think you could come twice?”

“I have before,” Xander said. “What do you have planned?”

“Nothing too concrete. You made such a lovely face just then that I want to keep doing it.” He pressed his lips to the head of his dick and ran his tongue around it. Xander pressed his heels into the bed. “But I still really want to fuck you too.”

“I’ll be sure to have enough energy then. Don’t get cum on your mask though.”

“I’ll be sure to swallow it all then.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Xander broke off into a gasp as Ryoma wrapped his lips around the head of Xander’s dick and sucked.

Ryoma chuckled, his laugh vibrating down his dick. Xander’s hips bucked, pushing his cock a bit further into Ryoma’s mouth. Ryoma put his hand on his hip and pulled back. “Easy, Marx. I do have a gag reflex.”

“A pity,” Xander groaned. “I’ll try to stay still.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm though,” Ryoma said, then dipped his head back down. He ran his tongue over Xander’s length, kissing occasionally. Xander had to close his eyes again. Ryoma, with swollen lips, licking his cock. It was too much. He kept his hand in Ryoma’s hair, holding him as he moved down to his balls, taking one into his mouth and sucking on it, then the other. Xander kept his breathing steady, focused on Ryoma’s lips, his tongue sliding against his hot skin. 

Ryoma scraped his teeth against Xander’s erection, not hard enough to bite, but it was enough to send a spike of panic down his spine. “Open your eyes, Marx. Look at me.”

“Ryoma—”

“Look at me.”

“Gods, Ryoma…” Xander groaned, keeping his eyes shut. Ryoma’s warmth, his breath, his hands, slipped away. Xander laid there and waited. Ryoma was just teasing him, but he’d give in before Xander would. He didn’t come back though. Xander opened his eyes and sat up. 

Ryoma was standing by the dresser, pulling out the tin of lubricant. “Ah, you lasted longer than I thought.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting prepared.” Ryoma set the tin by Xander's knee. He knelt down out of view, and when he sat back down on the bed, he was drying his hands with a towel. “I'm going to open you up while I was sucking you. But Marx,” he reached over and held Xander's chin. His fingers were chilled from the water. “You have to look at me. If you break eye contact for too long, I'll stop.”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Ryoma pressed a quick kiss to his lips and Xander relaxed just a bit. “Because I can't look away from you for a moment. Because I want you to see how it looks with my lips around you and for you to see how good it makes me feel. Because this is the first time we've had sex face to face like this and I want to see you.”

He said it like it was that easy. Xander felt like he was in pain and he wished he knew why (or maybe it'd be better if he didn't). 

“If you're concerned to look, I could always blindfold you.”

“Is that an option?”

“No.”

“Then why did you even offer?” Xander complained. Ryoma was so hard to deny, however, and Xander let out a long breath. “Alright.”

“Good, good Marx,” Ryoma muttered and kissed him, a long slow kiss that only ended when Xander relaxed into his warmth. Ryoma brushed his finger along Xander's jaw before he moved back down to lay between his legs. He opened the tin and slicked lubricant over his fingers. Xander pulled the pillows down from the bed and tucked them under his head, so Ryoma was at a good angle. He ran his finger around Xander's rim, swirling his tongue around Xander's head in the same motion. Xander kept his eyes open, watched as Ryoma's gaze flicked up to him. Ryoma smiled around his cock and pressed his finger, and Xander easily took him in. Ryoma sealed his mouth over Xander's head and began to suck, thrusting his finger at the same time.

“Ryoma,” Xander gasped and dug his fingers into palms so he wouldn't say anymore, so his name wouldn't fall from his lips like begging. Ryoma hummed against his head and pulled away to layer open-mouthed kisses down his shaft. He kept eye contact the entire time.

With just the first finger thrusting inside of him, Ryoma seemed only to tease Xander, only taking the head in his mouth, kissing and licking the skin. It was good, it was dizzying, but it wasn't enough. He would've told Ryoma to hurry up, but his breath seemed eternally caught in his throat.

Finally, the second finger, and Ryoma sank down Xander's dick. Xander had to fight bucking further into his hot mouth; Ryoma's fingers thrusting, brushing near his prostate didn't help either. Ryoma started scissoring his fingers, and Xander’s hand flew to his hair as he panted. Ryoma smirked and leaned into Xander's hand as he hollowed his cheeks. Xander's head fell back against the bed and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he opened his eyes and looked back down at Ryoma.

Ryoma pulled off long enough to mutter “good good” before he sank back down onto Xander's dick. He alternated between taking as much of Xander's erection into his mouth as he could and licking hot stripes up his length. His fingers scissored and stretched him, though they occasionally thrust forward and made him shake. “If you're not careful,” Xander said suddenly and moaned when Ryoma hummed around his dick. “I—I'm going to come soon. If you're not…careful.”

Ryoma pulled off Xander's dick and Xander stared at the line of saliva connecting them, how it bent when Ryoma smiled. “We wouldn't want that. Does that mean you're ready for three?”

“I better be.”

“You have to be sure.”

“I'm sure. Ryoma, please.”

“I can't argue if you're begging.” 

“Pity,” Xander muttered. “I really like arguing with you.” And then Ryoma pushed the third finger inside of Xander and both of them lost the will to continue. Xander moaned and dug his heels into his bed and rocked his hips towards Ryoma’s fingers. Ryoma finally broke eye contact and wrapped his hand around the base of his dick and took Xander as far into his mouth as he could, his hand pumping what he couldn’t reach. Xander held Ryoma’s head in both of his hands, trying to resist the urge to thrust his hips up, to push Ryoma down further. He just held his hair, watched Ryoma bobbing his head on his cock. Ryoma's fingers thrust deeply, his fingertips curling against his prostate. Xander was close to coming, and he could tell Ryoma felt it too when he picked up his pace. Xander tried to keep focused on Ryoma, but it was hard to focus on anything. “Ryoma,” he gasped, “I'm not going to last much—I’m coming.”

Ryoma hummed against him and moved so just the head was in his mouth and twisted his wrist while pumping the rest of his length. Xander loosened his grip on his hair before he tightened again and came with a shuttering gasp when Ryoma's fingers pressed against his prostate. His vision went white, and he fell back into the pillow, panting as Ryoma gave his head one final lick as his fingers still stretched him. It was almost too sensitive, and Xander pushed his shoulders back and shivered. 

Ryoma kept his fingers in while he moved up and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “How was that?”

“Yes,” Xander muttered.

Ryoma laughed. “I suppose that counts.” He kissed Xander again, deeper, and Xander let their tongues wind together, not caring about his own bitter taste on Ryoma's tongue. Ryoma thrust his fingers and Xander groaned. “You're not too sensitive, are you?” Ryoma muttered against his lips as Xander shuttered underneath him. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Xander shook his head and looked at Ryoma, struggling to focus on Ryoma. He must've looked as dazed as he felt, because Ryoma sucked in a breath. “So what should we do with you then? You seem in dire need of attention.”

“I could get off to you looking like this.”

“I'm sure you could. It would make the stretching rather pointless though.”

“It would.” Xander closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Ryoma moved his fingers deeper. Ryoma dipped his head down and ran his tongue over the tendons of his neck. “Does that mean you want me to fuck you, Marx?”

“ _Yes_.”

Ryoma smiled against his neck. He thrust his fingers again and Xander arched under him. “I’ve already seen how you look under me. I want to see how you look over me.” Ryoma pulled his fingers out and Xander groaned. He ducked below the bed to wash the lube off of his hands, then laid back down beside Xander. Xander rolled on his side and watched as Ryoma lathered lube onto his cock, watched how he tilted his head back and moaned.

“Ah,” Xander said. “So that’s how you want me.”

Ryoma turned his head to Xander and smirked. “Yes, I thought it fitting considering—”

"If you make a riding joke," Xander cut in, "I will leave. I will not come back, either."

Ryoma frowned. "You're willing to leave if I make a pun?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's low," Ryoma muttered, but he didn’t finish his thought.

Xander sat up and straddled Ryoma’s hips. Ryoma’s hands settled on Xander’s hips, then slid down to his thighs. “You look good like this,” Xander muttered. Ryoma’s wild hair was framed underneath him, flattened around him. There was something regal about the image. Xander didn’t mind the mask splashing colors over his face. It complimented him in a way. And then there was the rest of his body, stretched out underneath him, and it was so easy to see the entire length of him. 

Ryoma smirked and tilted his head back, and Xander just wanted to kiss him so much it stung. “You look great like this too. You very clearly belong here.”

“Hold the rest of that statement.”

“Of course. I don’t want you to leave.”

Xander smirked and then let out a sigh. “Help line me up,” he muttered. “This is a poor angle for me.”

Ryoma nodded and moved one hand to Xander’s hip, the other wrapping around the base of his erection. Xander reached behind himself and helped ease the head of Ryoma’s slick erection into him. Xander grit his teeth and eased himself down. “Easy,” Ryoma muttered, moving his hand to rub Xander’s thigh. “Take it slow.”

Xander leaned forward and rested his hands on Ryoma’s shoulders, forcing his breathing to come out slowly. He pushed himself further down, relishing how Ryoma’s grip tightened on him. He moved slowly, dug his nails into Ryoma’s shoulders and kept moving until he was settled fully on Ryoma’s dick. Xander sighed and slowly moved back, looking down at Ryoma. Ryoma had an almost stricken look on his face, holding onto Xander’s hips. Xander smirked. “How do you feel, Ryoma? I’m quite comfortable.”

Ryoma responded in a rapid stream of Hoshidan. Xander blinked and Ryoma started another sentence, then “Am I speaking in Hoshidan?”

“Not anymore.”

“Gods,” Ryoma muttered.

“Usually it takes you longer to shift. I wonder what changed.”

“You look honestly beautiful, Marx. You—” he broke off into a moan as Xander raised his hips and slowly slid back down to rest against his hips. “I can't talk if you do that.”

“Just adjusting. I believe you were complimenting me.”

“You look amazing like this. Beautiful,” he said again, then continued, almost blabbering, words falling quickly from his mouth. “I knew you had a wonderful body but seeing you like this is amazing. You're beautiful. I’ll never forget this, how you look. Gods, you’re so wonderful, I’d recognize in a heartbeat.”

Xander put his hands on Ryoma's chest and slid slowly up his dick, focusing on the hot burn when he slid back down. “Could you now?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Ryoma moaned. He dug his nails into Xander's thighs as Xander began moving again. His thrusts were slow, trying to find his rhythm, trying to figure out how to move comfortably. Ryoma didn't seem to mind, muttering about how statuesque he looked. Xander closed his eyes and focused on that slow drag as Ryoma stretched him and filled him. Ryoma moved his hands to his hips and thrust up into Xander. Xander moaned, the sharp snap sending a burst of heat through him. Xander looked down at Ryoma and he just smirked back. “I thought you might need a little help maintaining the rhythm. Is that alright?”

“No,” Xander said, and when Ryoma's face fell, he leaned over Ryoma and stayed over him. “You stopped. Once isn't a rhythm. You have to do more.” He dipped down and kissed Ryoma. “Come on, Ryoma.”

Ryoma snapped his hips up into Xander and Xander curled over his chest. Ryoma didn't stop this time, kept thrusting into Xander. He still felt sensitive, skin warm and flushed at every moment, but everything that inched close to pain only brought heat. He moaned, wanting more. “You're so receptive,” Ryoma purred in Xander's ear, and just his tone made Xander shiver. He continued in Hoshidan, then: “I want you to look as good you're feeling.” Ryoma stopped and Xander let out a noise that sounded too much like a whine, pressing his head to Ryoma’s chest. Ryoma moved his hand to Xander's hair and pulled his head up. Ryoma smiled and moved his hand to cup his cheek. “Sit up, Marx.”

Xander pushed himself off of Ryoma’s chest, slowly sat up. “And how am I now, Ryoma?”

“Much better,” Ryoma moaned, then repeated it in Hoshidan, eyes trailing over Xander’s body, focusing on his crotch. “Gods, you’re already half hard just from this?”

“You’re compelling, what can I say.” Xander lifted his hips and slid back down again. He thrust to the pace Ryoma had set to him and Ryoma drove his hips up to meet him, sending lightning through him. Xander enjoyed lying back and letting Ryoma hold his hips and thrust into him like he was something to be used. But he liked sitting up, thrusting down onto Ryoma’s hips as they snapped up into him. It was easier to meet him halfway. 

Xander was fully hard again just from Ryoma’s thrusts when Ryoma lost his rhythm and his pace became erratic. Xander tried to keep up with him, muttering “it's okay, it's okay, come for me, Ryoma,” until Ryoma threw his head back and came with a groan. Xander couldn't think of anything more lovely as Ryoma shuttered underneath him. Xander settled on Ryoma's hips and stroked his shoulders until Ryoma focused on him. “And how was that?” Xander asked.

“We're not done yet,” Ryoma muttered, reaching out to wrap his hand around Xander's length, pumping him until he came and collapsed on top of Ryoma. Xander panted against Ryoma's neck, felt Ryoma wind his hand in his hair and kiss his head. “Now I can tell you that it was very good.”

Xander hummed and pressed a kiss to Ryoma's neck. “It was excellent for me too.” He knew he should’ve moved, could feel the cum on Ryoma’s stomach sticking to him as well, but he didn’t want to move. He closed his eyes, breathing in Ryoma, feeling Ryoma’s hands rub his back. Ryoma didn’t say anything either, just held him.

For a long moment they were like that. Breathing, existing. Distantly, Xander could hear the music of the masquerade. He couldn’t stay. But he wanted to. He wanted to let the world outside their small room feel distant and dreamlike. He wanted to stay with Ryoma. 

Eventually, Ryoma tilted his head and whispered into Xander’s ear. “I really need to talk to you.”

Xander tilted his head so he could look at Ryoma. “Well I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Maybe without my dick in your ass?”

“I personally find it impressive that it’s still in there,” Xander said, lifting his hips and easing Ryoma’s soft cock out of him.

“And maybe clothed.”

Xander pushed himself up and looked down at Ryoma. “We talked about international politics last night naked.”

Ryoma sighed. “Yes, I know we did.”

“What could you possibly want to talk that requires clothes?”

“Marx. Humor me.”

Xander sighed and rolled off Ryoma. “It was starting to get disgusting anyway,” he muttered.

Ryoma kicked at Xander's leg. “You're disgusting.”

Xander chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the basin before heading to the washroom. He cleaned himself, trying to figure out what exactly Ryoma wanted to talk about. It was the sixth night. It weighed more heavily in Ryoma’s mind than their conversation the previous night. Anxiety burned Xander’s stomach. 

He left the washroom and Ryoma took his place. Xander dressed and wondered if he should leave, gather up his clothes and slip away, not leave a trace of Marx behind. He'd wear a different mask, and Ryoma wouldn't even know the difference.

It was like a fairy tale. The idea never felt real enough to force him to move. Xander closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his thumbnails hard into crook of his elbows. He focused on breathing. Just breathing. Not the thought of Ryoma’s hands on his back, Ryoma’s hair between his fingers. But it was inescapable, and he could feel Ryoma breathing against his neck even though he was alone. 

He didn’t hear Ryoma come back until he was standing in front of him, putting his hands over Xander’s. Xander startled back to reality and blinked at Ryoma. Ryoma reached up and cupped his cheek. “You with me, Marx?”

“Yes.” Xander wanted to apologize, but that caught in his throat. He just stared as Ryoma leaned up and kissed him. His thumb brushed warmth along his face. Ryoma pulled back and smiled softly at Xander. Xander cleared his throat. “You had something you’d like to talk about?” He glanced down at Ryoma, still naked. “Or do you need help?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Do you want help?”

Ryoma smiled, tilted his head. Xander hadn’t noticed that quirk before, but he saw it so frequently. He found himself staring at the way that his bangs fell against his mask. “I won’t object to that.”

Xander helped Ryoma get dressed, letting his fingers drag across Ryoma’s skin. Xander tried not to think of anything, just focused on how everything felt. Xander fastened the last button and ran his fingers over Ryoma’s neck. Ryoma pulled Xander’s hands away and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I suppose now we have to talk.”

Ryoma sighed, squeezed Xander’s fingers, and nodded.

“You don’t seem to thrilled about this,” Xander said, and hoped that Ryoma wouldn’t say anything.

“It’s not something that’s easy to say. But I can’t avoid it.” Ryoma held Xander’s hand and tugged him back to the bed. Ryoma sat on the bed and Xander sat next to him. Ryoma sighed and held his hands in front of him, his fingers running over his knuckles. “Marx, can we take the masks off?”

Xander froze, blinked. He thought he must have heard Ryoma wrong, but no other words could fit that. He waited for Ryoma to say that he was joking and Ryoma just stared at him. “What? Ryoma, are you serious?”

“I am.”

“ _Why?_ Ryoma, we had an agreement, we had an understanding. We’re just using each other. What changed?” Half of what he said tasted like a lie.

“Yesterday happened. What you told me yesterday changed how I view this.”

“History makes you want to throw away distance?”

“No Marx, gods no. Because I want to help Nohr, I want to change, I want to be a better man, and all of that is genuine, you have to trust me there, but there is still this undercurrent, Marx, that I'm doing this all for you.”

Xander couldn’t breathe, could feel what had to have been Ryoma’s hands clenching and squeezing his heart. He didn’t know how he felt, if his words were warming him or chilling him. His mouth was open, but he couldn’t say anything. 

"That pains me, in a way. I should want change because of altruistic reasons, but here I am, being selfish, wanting to please you.” Ryoma laughed and shook his head, staring down at Xander’s pale hands in his lap. He squeezed his hand again and looked up at Xander. Ryoma’s eyes looked like oak. “I want to know who you are." Xander stiffened next to him and his heart clenched. "I want to know _you_. I want to know your position so I can understand you when you talk about Nohr and the depth of it. I want to have a dream where you have a face. And I want you to have the same about me."

Xander stared at Ryoma. He finally found his voice. "What…What happened to distance? Don’t say that we can keep it. The second you have a concrete knowledge, you can't…we can't…" Ryoma would never tolerate Xander.

“I know. I thought it would be easy, to just talk and have it mean nothing. But something happened. I may have asked too much, expected that I wouldn’t get attached as I am. I don’t know. I still don’t fully understand what I want. But even still.” Ryoma reached up and clasped Xander’s neck and held him. “Marx, you have done too much for me, and by extension our countries. I want to help Nohr, I want true peace, I want stability, and I will work for that. It stings enough that it took a pretty naked man to spark this change, I would at least like the dignity of knowing who you are."

Xander covered his mouth with his hand and breathed, his eyes closed. In for five, out for five. Ryoma didn't say anything, just waited, perfectly still. Xander had a feeling that he'd wait for hours. When breathing stopped hurting, Xander let out a long sigh, then looked at Ryoma. "Fine. We can remove our masks."

Ryoma smiled softly. He held the front of his mask and reached back to undo the tie.

"However, that's if you can guarantee that once I know who you are that I won't hate you."

Ryoma paused. He lowered his hand. "What?"

"Have you not considered that I’d hate you when I know who you are? It’s very possible, you realize. We are both high ranking nobles. We both know that enough from our conversations. We both have political sway. Therefore, there is a high chance that we have met. Alternatively, there's a high chance that the other is infamous. We are from rivaling countries after all. It’s only to be expected. There is a chance that I will recognize you and that I will hate you. I have spent near two decades in court, and that's two decades of previous emotions to work through.”

“Marx…”

“Do you understand? Ryoma, I can't guarantee that I won't hate you—" Lies, he knew he wouldn't be able to hate Ryoma ever again, not with the masquerade weighing him down "—and I can't say that you won't hate me when you realize who I am." Xander blinked, startled that he'd even admit that and shook his head and faced forward, stared across the room. "But if you understand that and accept that, then go ahead."

Ryoma lowered his hand and sighed. For a long moment, they sat next to each other, not moving, not looking at each other. "I should go," Ryoma finally said.

"As should I," Xander said. He didn't have the will to move.

"Do you want me to get a key tomorrow?" Ryoma asked. "For our last night?"

Xander sighed. "It isn't ours, it's simply the end of the masque."

"Marx."

Xander didn't look at Ryoma. "No."

Ryoma was silent, then he nodded and stood.

"I'll get it for us." Xander looked up at Ryoma and smiled a bit. “We probably shouldn’t. But…” Xander clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

“Marx.”

Xander was silent for a long moment. He could hear Hephaestion’s voice echoing in his head, Camilla’s warning. He shook his head again, and smiled at Ryoma. “I…would like one last night.”

“One last night,” Ryoma repeated, and held his hand out to Xander. Xander took it and stood up and Ryoma pulled him into a kiss. His kiss was gentle, like Xander could be broken. “Marx,” Ryoma breathed against his lips and rested their foreheads together. Somehow, the click of their masks sounded mocking.

Xander reached out and grabbed Ryoma’s shirt, pressed his knuckles against his chest. He could feel Ryoma’s heart. “Mi dispiace per non avertelo detto.” He pushed his other hand against Ryoma’s neck and held him, gently dug his nails into Ryoma’s skin, wanting to keep him there. “Non mi è consentito avere ciò che desidero, ma vorrei che restassi. Mi dispiace, Ryoma.” Xander slowly pulled away and opened up the door for Ryoma, and Ryoma stared at him for a long moment before he left.

Xander knew what he should’ve done. He could hear Camilla's voice. They had this conversation before, seven years ago. Xander thought that his relationship with Hephaestion would be temporary, that it wouldn’t mean anything. It had started as an exploration of themselves, then as a way of companionship, and then they just chased that heat. Camilla warned him, told him to remember that nothing could come of their relationship, a retainer and the crown prince. And Xander ignored her, told her that she didn’t understand, insisted that what they had was purely physical and that they both already knew it.

But he clearly didn’t, because when both Velvet and Hephaestion told him to retreat, Hephaestion yelled over his shoulder that he loved Xander, then faced front. He must’ve known he was going to die, said it because he’d never be able to say it again, did it like the plays displayed. But stories never focused on what it was like for the person who was alive to know that. And Xander didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. After his funeral, Camilla sat next to Xander and apologized, like she didn't see it coming, like she hadn't warned him before.

And then Camilla now, telling him that he should know this pain by now, how he shouldn’t get invested in something when it was so close to ending. He knew that. It was just sex, with some conversations so honest it hurt. The masquerade would be over and Ryoma would never have a kind word to say to him again, and that was fine, because tomorrow he’d have all of Ryoma’s attention and affection. 

Camilla whispered in his head. _“You have to be careful Xander. You can’t expect this relationship to work. It will only end poorly, so shouldn’t you just end it now?”_

_I don't care, just let me have this one thing, let me keep this one thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes! Again, all the thanks in the world for khalyelyn for her Italian so I can have bilingual angst!
> 
>  _Non preoccuparti. È solo l’ennesimo esempio di come tu sia più adatto a regnare di quanto lo sarò mai io. Tutto qua._ =Don't worry. It's just another example of how you're more suited to rule than I ever will. That's all.
> 
>  _Mi dispiace per non avertelo detto. Non mi è consentito avere ciò che desidero, ma vorrei che restassi. Mi dispiace, Ryoma._ =I'm sorry for not telling you. I don't get to keep the things that I want, but I wish you'd stay. I'm sorry, Ryoma.


	8. The Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Make a spark, break the dark, find a light with me_  
>  Who we are, chasing stars, won’t you dance with me?  
> …Won’t you dance with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take this moment--because the end of chapter notes is a very long translation note--to apologize to every commenter who called this cute in the first couple chapters.

Public baths were not Nohrian, but Perugia was along the border, and some Hoshidan elements had bled over. The royal family’s wing had two baths, but it was rare to see anyone. Their schedules were too different—Xander knew for a fact that Elise slept in until lunch because she stayed up so late for the masque—and it was hard run into each other casually anymore. 

Which was probably why Xander had been in there for an hour. He had stopped bathing was just wallowing. The idea of going through his routine again was exhausting. The day itself, the confirmation that everything was functioning. The night, the final conversations he'd have to ensure that the masque was a success. The next day and his parting speech and all the letters he'd have to sign.

And Ryoma, simultaneously a relief and a stress, anxiety and comfort in the same breath.

But he mattered the least out of all of Xander's problems. Their relationship would be over that night. Ryoma wouldn't see Marx again. Everything else had lasting implications. Whatever good had been done with their conversation had influenced Ryoma enough that it didn’t matter anymore what Xander did.

Ryoma mattered the least, was on his mind the most. Xander had already gotten the token for his key. He wanted to get an actual key, to reserve and stock a room for himself, to make the last night perfect for the two of them, but he knew he couldn’t get away with it. Ryoma would ask too many questions, questions with only one answer. But he still wanted to, to see Ryoma’s face, the surprise and his smile.

Sentimentality came far too easily for Xander.

Xander lifted his hand out of the water and watched it drip from his fingers. He stared, hypnotized, heard two other voices as they entered the changing station, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, to identify who they were.

Their voices became clearer, and Xander heard words. “What—what even is that?”

“Takumi, don’t grab.”

Xander nearly cracked his head on the edge of the bath when he heard Ryoma’s voice. He needed to get out of the bathhouse. There was only one exit. Xander wondered if he could slip out and avoid interacting with Ryoma, at least long enough to get a shirt on.

They continued talking. “Why do you have that tucked in your belt?”

“Because I don’t have a pocket to keep it in.”

“Why do you need it? Just use your sleeve.”

“Takumi, you’re eighteen. Now please give it back.”

Xander got out of the bath. He was lightheaded. Probably from the heat. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips.

“It’s Nohrian,” Takumi said, bluntly, with a tone like he had bile coating his tongue. 

“I know. A Nohrian gave it to me,” Ryoma replied, and ‘Nohrian’ had no poison behind it, only fondness.

Takumi made a hacking noise.

“Mature, Takumi,” Ryoma said, and the two of them entered the bathing chamber, both wearing fundoshi and nothing else.

Xander froze where he was at the door. He fought the urge to look down, at the jut of Ryoma’s bare hip. “Prince Ryoma,” Xander replied, not registering that his mouth was moving, the greeting coming automatically, “Prince Takumi.”

Takumi grimaced before he steeled his face. “Prince Xander.”

“Prince Xander,” Ryoma said, looking at him for only a moment before his eyes slid past Xander and he walked away. Like he didn’t see him. Like there wasn’t anything worth seeing.

Xander pushed into the changing area and dried off, muttering his speech for the next day under his breath. He stuttered the words, started sentences three times before he could finish them. He could see where Ryoma had stowed his clothes, could see the folded square of Marx’s favor lying on top of it. 

Xander got dressed quickly, and left. He didn’t want to spend any more time in there, with Ryoma’s voice echoing off the walls.

\---

Xander planned on entering the masquerade with all of his siblings. It was the final night. They had to be at their very best. The final night had to be the best for all that remained. He let his eyes move over his siblings, the four of them a rainbow of colors, from the pink Elise to the navy Leo. Xander was in white, the only spark of color his red button up shirt and his dark, scuffed shoes.

His siblings stood in front of him and stared. Xander sighed and rubbed his head. “Don't look at me like I'm lecturing you.”

“I'm sorry, were you not going to give us a speech?” Leo said, though he was smiling a bit.

“Am I so predictable?”

“Yes,” Elise and Leo said at the same time, and Azura cupped her hands over her mouth to hide her giggle. 

Xander sighed and clapped his hands. “Regardless. Thank you all for your help. The masque would not be what it is without all of you. I don't know if this will work the way Father intended, but I am comfortable calling this a success. And to be more casual, thank you for helping me. Knowing that you are here, that you are all so capable has been a great relief for me. I…I have been able to relax knowing that you are here.” Even Leo smiled a bit at that, though he hid it by scratching his cheek. “Thank you all for making this week perfect.”

Elise jumped forward and grabbed Xander’s hand, her face split into a wide grin. “Well come on! We’ve got to go to the masque.”

The five of them walked to the ballroom, gentle conversation and teasing passing between them. It was light. Outside of entry to the ballroom, Xander pulled out of Elise's grip and took a step back. Camilla stopped walking and looked over her shoulder at him. Xander ignored her and walked to a small table with servants. He placed his token on the table, and it was swapped with a key. Xander ran his finger over the number and put it in his pocket. Camilla crossed her arms under her chest as Xander walked back. “You don't have to worry,” Xander said as he approached, before she could interrupt. He walked past her and she walked alongside him, and the two of them entered the ballroom. “It's just the last night.”

Camilla walked a bit faster and stood in front of him. He stopped and stared at her. She was taller than him, just barely when barefoot, but in heels, he had to look up at her. And she looked down at him. It annoyed him more than it should’ve. “Xander, I don't want you to get hurt again.”

“I'm allowed a last bit of happiness.”

“Dear, dear, I'm not saying you aren't allowed, I'm—” she stopped, looking over his shoulder.

Xander turned and looked. Ryoma was standing behind them. He was all in black, clothes slim and clinging to his frame, but he still looked large, his shoulders broad (and Xander thought how well his hands fit on Ryoma's shoulders). There subtle patterns in dark purple, barely visible unless the light hit it just right. He wasn’t wearing a tie tonight, a spiderweb of fine golden chains stretching down his neck. His hair was tied back in a low ponytail, Nohrian style. Xander froze at the sight. “Ryoma,” he said, his voice distant, almost dazed. He didn’t expect Ryoma this early, but here he was, standing in front of him. He knew Camilla was behind him, watching, probably judging, but he didn’t care.

Ryoma stepped forward and looked over Xander’s shoulder at Camilla. He seemed guarded. Camilla was pretty unmistakable, even if Ryoma couldn’t identify Xander himself in a crowd. Camilla pinched Xander’s elbow before she walked away. Xander couldn’t look away from Ryoma even if he wanted to, especially when he let out a small smile. “Marx,” Ryoma said, stepping forward. He reached out and brushed his finger along Xander’s knuckles. He laughed a little bit. “I thought if I arrived right as the masquerade started, I’d be able to see you enter for once.”

“Ryoma…” 

“But it looks like I kept you waiting again.”

“Ryoma, I—” Xander laughed a bit. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. “Yes, I always come early.”

“And you stay to the end too, I bet.”

“I do.”

Ryoma laughed, quietly. “I figured. You’ve got an amazing sense of duty.” He stepped a bit closer, linked his fingers with Xander’s. “Dance with me, Marx?”

“It’s early.”

“I know.”

“Not many people will dance this early.” His family would see him, and they’d know, and they weren’t Camilla, what if they told Ryoma?

Ryoma stared at him, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. I understand.” They stood there. Ryoma looked down at his hand.

“Twenty-six.”

“What?”

“That’s the room number. Twenty-six.”

Ryoma stared for a long moment. “And why are you telling me?”

“Ryoma, please, don’t be daft.”

Ryoma squeezed his hand. “Why do you think that I won’t go up with you right now?”

Xander’s mind went black. It was early. The masquerade had just started. He couldn’t leave right now, not when there was still so much he could do. Xander had people to talk to, connections to maintain, contacts to check on. 

Ryoma was a connection, a contact. Probably the most important one. Xander squeezed Ryoma’s hand and pulled away. Ryoma let his hand slip until just Xander’s fingertips were touching, then he grabbed Xander’s hand again, still looking at him. Ryoma raised Xander’s hand and pressed his lips to Xander’s fingers before he let him go. It was far too bold for Xander to be comfortable with. But Xander didn’t care about anyone else right now. Ryoma was behind him, following him up the staircase. When they were out of view, he put his hand on the small of Xander’s back. His hand felt warm. Burning, almost.

Neither of them said anything until Xander opened up the door to the room and locked it behind them. Xander turned back to Ryoma and he held his chin, tilted his head down. He leaned up and breathed against his lips for a long second before he leaned in and kissed Xander. It was too brief, Ryoma pulling away shortly after. “Dance with me, Marx?”

“We don’t have music.”

Ryoma took Xander’s hand. “Well, it won’t be an exciting dance then. Perhaps you can teach me some new steps?”

Xander put his hand on Ryoma’s shoulder. “No. Not without music. I’d prefer a wider space as well.”

“So just the waltz again?”

“Just the waltz again.” The started moving, slowly. Ryoma seemed to be fighting the urge to look down at his feet, to keep staring up at Xander. Xander couldn’t look away from him. The world shrunk down to the two of them. “There's nothing wrong with the waltz.”

“I suppose. You know more about these dances than I.”

“It's just slow. I'd like to see you you in a fast dance.”

“Ha! So you could see me stumble?”

“Well, that would be amusing. But no. Just the way that you look, I feel that you would look amazing in a fast dance. You seem surprisingly graceful.”

“Surprisingly?”

“Surprisingly.”

“Maybe in a different context, with a well balanced katana. In a dance? I'd fear for the other person.”

“My toes remember well.”

“Your poor toes. But I think as long as I no longer lead, I might stand a chance.”

“Depends on the person.”

“It'd be you, of course. Why would there be anyone else?”

“I…”

“Marx.”

“I truly wish that this wasn't the last night.”

“It doesn't have to be.”

“Doesn’t it? How? Can you control time now?”

“Marx, come back to Hoshido with me.”

That ended the dream, expanded the word back around them. “What?”

“Come back to Hoshido with me. Live with me. I know it’s been a week, I know it well. We can take all the time in the world to get to know each other. I want to learn more about you, about Nohr, about how we can improve. Please.”

And Xander considered it. For a long moment, he stared at Ryoma and thought about what it would be like to live with Ryoma. He wondered how Ryoma would be like in the mornings, if he woke up early and would tug on Xander’s curls until he woke up or if he’d hold Xander tightly and refuse to move. 

But Xander pushed the fantasy away. “Ryoma, you know that I have a family. You know I have my own duties to uphold. You cannot expect to be so selfish.”

Ryoma’s eyes widened, like he was just now realizing the depth of what he was asking. “Marx, I—”

“What about you? Will you leave Hoshido to be with me? Will you live in Nohr with me?”

“Marx, I can’t.”

“And I can’t either.”

“I realize. I’m sorry.” Ryoma shook his head back and forth. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just…I just wanted to keep this going.”

“We can’t. We knew that going in.”

“I know. But…this.” He stopped, squeezed Xander’s hands. “I didn’t expect this.”

“I didn’t either,” Xander muttered. “Gods, what even happened? What happened to distance?”

“I don't know. Gods, I can't believe that I even proposed that…it's not feasible.”

“You're not that emotional,” Xander muttered. “Sentimental, but not emotional.”

“Yes. But gods…I…My mind is so muddled right now.” They were still dancing, technically. It wasn't a waltz; they were just absently moving together. Ryoma stared up at Xander. “Do you remember when I explained why I wanted companionship?”

Xander said ‘yes’ while Ryoma laughed.

“I don't think I can call it explaining. It was so scattered…”

“I understood enough.”

“I'm glad that somehow happened. It only makes sense to me because it's something I spent my whole life trying to understand. But I suppose I didn't fully understand it. Maybe…” Ryoma broke off with a sigh and bent his head to Xander's shoulder. He squeezed the other side, didn't stop moving. He took a deep breath and looked up at Xander. “Marx, what do you want?”

Xander wanted to cling to Ryoma so tightly and keep him close forever. Xander wanted to let him go so he never would be rejected. Xander wanted to keep this happiness. Xander never wanted to be hurt again. Xander wanted to know if Ryoma would accept that he had spent the week with the crown prince. Xander never wanted Ryoma to know. “I don't know.”

Ryoma smiled a bit. “Neither do I.” Ryoma rubbed his thumb over Xander's hand. “I'd like you, though. One last night.”

“One last night,” Xander agreed. He stopped their dance and leaned down and kissed Ryoma. Ryoma let Xander's hands go and cupped his neck. Xander wound one hand into Ryoma's hair and wrapped the other one around his back and pulled him close, kept him there as they kissed deeper. Ryoma's breathing seemed louder. The sound of fabric brushing as Xander squeezed Ryoma closer was deafening. Everything seemed more prominent, but the masquerade itself was distant. It was just the two of them that seemed to fill the entire world. Xander didn't know what changed, what filled him with need and made him desperate but had none of the heat from the previous nights. They didn't break the kiss often, pulling away to breathe only for them both to push back down and kiss again. 

Xander slid his hand down to Ryoma’s ponytail and pulled on the ribbon and let it fall to the ground. He slid his fingers into Ryoma’s hair, combed his fingers through it. Xander scratched his fingers against Ryoma’s scalp and Ryoma shuttered against him. Ryoma started moving too, sliding his hands down to his shoulders, then pushed away just a bit to run his hands over Xander’s chest. “You're stunning in white,” Ryoma muttered, running his hands down the sides of Xander's jacket. 

“I never wear white,” Xander muttered.

“Wear it more,” Ryoma muttered and leaned up and kissed Xander.

Their lips slid together for a couple breaths before Xander pulled away again. “You’re not going to see me again,” Xander muttered against his lips, wondering absently how Ryoma would look at the crown prince if he showed up wearing white. 

“I’ll just have to remember this then.” Ryoma kissed Xander’s jaw. He laughed against his skin and popped the buttons undone, running his hands over Xander’s stomach. “Not that I’ll keep you clothed for long.” 

Xander laughed a bit and slid his hands down Ryoma’s back. “Charming, even still.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Xander said as Ryoma slid the jacket off of his shoulders. It fell behind him. Xander bent down and kissed Ryoma as Ryoma worked his hands between them, undoing his vest. Xander pulled away briefly, kissed the corner of Ryoma’s mouth. His nose brushed against the mask. “Black makes you look sharp.”

“I feel washed out.”

“You don’t look it. Gods, Ryoma, you could pull anything off, surprisingly.” 

Ryoma gripped Xander’s hair and pulled him down into another kiss, one with more warmth. Ryoma’s tongue pushed into his mouth. They clung to each other, Xander digging his fingers into Ryoma’s shoulders. They pulled away, panting against each other’s lips, and Xander reached down to undo his jacket. “Surprisingly, you say again. Gods, and I take that as a compliment.”

“Well, your hair certainly is in a league of its own. And that mask…”

“My mask?”

“Yes, the overt pattern. It’s barely symmetrical.”

“You have problems with my mask?”

“Not when you’re wearing it. You make it look good.” It was easier to flirt, like there wasn’t this weight dragging his stomach down. It was easier to see Ryoma’s honest teasing smile, to lean down and kiss him and feel how felt against him. Like it wasn’t their last night. Like Xander had nothing to look forward to the following day. 

Xander pushed Ryoma’s jacket off of his shoulders. He dragged his nails down Ryoma’s back and felt Ryoma shutter against him. Ryoma grabbed Xander’s head and pulled him back down into a kiss, harsher this time, his teeth scraping against Xander’s lips. Ryoma's hands roamed over his back and pushed the suspenders down Xander's shoulders. They stuck at Xander's elbows. Xander didn't want to take his hands off of Ryoma. Ryoma pulled away and kept moving when Xander tried to move back. “Just a bit, just a bit. We need to get undressed.”

Xander still, almost defiantly, kept his hands on Ryoma, undoing his vest, sliding his hands over his stomach, letting one arm leave Ryoma so the suspenders could slip off that side, then the other. Ryoma slid his hands up Xander’s sides and stepped in close when Xander bent down so they could kiss again. Ryoma’s hands traced over his ribs, so delicate, with just enough pressure that Xander’s fingers twitched on Ryoma’s chest. He slid his palms over to the center of his chest and pulled back, looking down at Xander’s chest as he undid his shirt. “You still aren’t skilled at buttons, I see,” Xander teased.

Ryoma leaned up and scraped his teeth against Xander’s jaw. “It’s only been a couple of days. I’m just glad I understand buttons more now.”

Xander laughed, and slid his hands up to Ryoma’s neck, playing with the gold chains, tugging on them as he rubbed Ryoma’s chest.

“The second night might’ve been my favorite outfit,” Ryoma said. Half of Xander’s shirt was unbuttoned and he slid his hands over his bare chest, his callouses scratching against his skin. “You’ve pulled off every one, but I liked the chains. A pity I didn’t get to use them as much.”

Xander nodded, not trusting his throat to work. He moved his fingers up to Ryoma’s throat. He didn’t tilt his head back, but his fingers stalled against Xander’s skin and his eyes fluttered closed. Xander slid his hands along Ryoma’s neck and undid the clasp of the necklace, let his fingers drag back across Ryoma’s skin as he removed it. Ryoma grabbed Xander’s wrists and pushed up to kiss him again. The chains slipped from Xander’s fingers and fell to floor, but Xander didn’t care, not when he had Ryoma’s tongue running along his. They pulled apart and Xander laughed against his lips. “We can’t stay away from each other for a moment.”

“Well we only have so much time.”

Xander didn't know if that meant that they should move faster or if they should savor it and drag it out until midnight. Xander didn't know which he wanted. Ryoma decided for him, undoing the remainder of Xander's buttons. Xander started on Ryoma's shirt, letting go of him only so Ryoma could push his shirt off.

“You have so many scars,” Ryoma muttered, brushing his thumb along one on his shoulder, one on his arm, one on his side. 

“None of them have good stories, I'm afraid.” Xander pulled Ryoma's shirt off his shoulder and brushed his thumb over the red scar that curled up his shoulders and watched as Ryoma shrugged his shoulder just a bit at the delicate touch.

“They don't need stories,” Ryoma said as Xander moved his hands down to his chest. “You've worked hard, I can tell, and that's all that matters.”

Xander closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists on Ryoma's chest. He let out a breath and leaned in, Ryoma pushing up to meet him in a kiss, slow, gentle, Ryoma's fingers drawing on his skin. They pulled away and Xander continued unbuttoning Ryoma's shirt and slipped it off his shoulders and onto the floor. They stepped back into a kiss, Ryoma's hands sliding over his back, his finger stroking the puncture scar on his shoulder, Xander's hand stroking Ryoma's arm. Ryoma's skin was hot against Xander's where they were pressed together. Each breath pushed them closer. 

Ryoma's hands moved down his back, down to Xander's butt, then slid along his waistband to his hips. Xander broke their kiss, two fingers stroking a branch of lightning above Ryoma's elbow. Ryoma didn't say anything as he moved his hands down to Xander’s crotch, fingering the button of his pants, staring up at Xander. “What is it?” Xander asked, his voice a throaty mumble, like he wasn't used to speaking, like some emotion had seized his throat.

“Marx, you're just…” Ryoma leaned up and kissed him, moving his hand over to cup his crotch, then rub his erection with his thumb so Xander gasped against his lips.

Xander grabbed Ryoma's waist, then pulled back. “Just what? I hope it's a compliment.”

“Of course it is. If I knew how to say it.” Ryoma laughed a bit, quietly, without humor. He undid Xander's pants and slid them down so his boxers were showing, then let him go and ran his fingers over Xander's stomach, just under his navel. Xander moved as well, popping his buttons undone and sliding both his pants and boxers down his hips. Xander would’ve pushed them off completely, but Ryoma kissed him again and pushed him back until his legs hit the bed. 

Xander pulled on Ryoma’s hips and broke their kiss. He sat down on the bed and kissed along the line of Ryoma’s hip, tracing his tongue over the skin. Ryoma slid his palms down Xander’s back as Xander kissed over to his navel. Xander’s hands moved along his hips, down his thighs. Ryoma curled his hands over Xander’s shoulders and pushed him on his back, climbing on top of him. He laid on top of Xander, not letting any space between them when they kissed. Ryoma should’ve been suffocating, but it wasn’t enough. Xander wrapped his arms around Ryoma, pulled him closer, spread his legs around Ryoma. Still not enough. Ryoma broke their kiss and started layering kisses over Xander’s neck. Xander held his hair and curled in over him. “Ryoma, please, please. Ryoma.”

“Alright Marx, alright, I’m moving.” He pressed a quick kiss to Xander’s lips and sat up, sliding off the bed. Xander raised his hips and Ryoma pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. Xander shivered and waited as Ryoma slipped his shoes off and tugged his pants off and tossed them to the side, waited as Ryoma started stripping too. Ryoma returned to the bed, leaning over Xander to kiss him quickly, pulling away too quickly to kiss along Xander’s jaw. Ryoma took Xander’s calf and pushed it back, then pushed down on his knee, towards his chest. “You’re not too flexible,” Ryoma teased gently.

“Paladin, remember. My horse does all the work.”

Ryoma laughed softly. “I suppose I can’t hook your leg over my shoulder then.”

“Not easily.”

“Oh well,” Ryoma leaned down and kissed Xander, still holding his leg, forcing him to curl inward. His thumb stroked his skin. Xander wound both hands into Ryoma’s hair and held him as their tongues rubbed together. Ryoma muttered ‘Marx’ as he pulled away and slowly pushed off of him. “I’ll be back,” he said.

“I know,” Xander said, but he still burned. As Ryoma got prepared, Xander turned onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. Looking at Ryoma would be too much tonight. It was too much at times the night before, but on their final night, looking at Ryoma would be overwhelming. He enjoyed seeing Ryoma too much and then he wanted more from him. It was bad enough that he was with Ryoma at all. He couldn’t keep that distance anymore. He had to do something.

Behind him, Ryoma stopped. He was silent. Xander fought the urge to look. “That’s a familiar sight,” Ryoma said. “Though unexpected.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” Ryoma trailed his fingertips down his spine, over the curve of his ass. “I liked seeing how you reacted, but this is a good position.” Ryoma kissed Xander’s shoulder and squeezed his butt. “I appreciate the view.”

“Good.”

“Marx,” he said, kissing his shoulder. “Marx,” he repeated, then pulled back, slicking his fingers and running them around Xander’s entrance. Xander shuttered at the gentle touch, the soft press, the tease, and then Ryoma’s finger was slipping inside of him. It didn’t seem to take as long that time. Maybe Xander was getting used to Ryoma, used to letting him in. Xander almost laughed at the thought. He might’ve if Ryoma’s finger thrusting gradually deeper didn’t catch his breath.

Ryoma was silent, no mutters of encouragement. He just seemed to be watching his finger slip inside of Xander. It made Xander’s every breath seem louder. Xander clenched his fists in the sheets, breathing heavily. “The second, Ryoma.” 

“You need a bit more time.”

“You’ve given me plenty of time.” He rocked his hips back into Ryoma’s finger, like he was begging. He really didn’t mind as much as he should’ve.

“I’m drawing it out.”

“Ryoma, we don’t have all night.”

Ryoma grabbed Xander’s hip and pushed the second finger inside. Xander moaned, his arms shaking. Ryoma bent over Xander’s back and kissed and mouthed his shoulder. He could feel ‘Marx’ mouthed against his skin. It was odd that he could recognize that name so easily. It wasn’t his. Xander closed his eyes and focused on Ryoma’s fingers thrusting, stretching. He tried not to think about how good Ryoma’s lips felt, how he liked the brush of his hair along his back. That wasn’t what he wanted. He needed the physical burn.

Ryoma curled his fingers and Xander’s hips bucked. Ryoma thrust his fingers, hitting that spot again. His shoulders shook, his breath caught in his throat. “Marx, you sound so good.”

Xander nodded absently, breathing heavily. Ryoma slid his hand down Xander’s hip, wrapped his hand around his erection. Xander gasped, fisted the sheets. “Ryoma—”

“You’re already leaking,” Ryoma muttered, rubbing the precum dripping over Xander’s head. “Maybe I did take too long.”

“You’re still taking too long,” Xander muttered, gasping as Ryoma thrust his fingers against his prostate and then scissored his fingers again.

“I’ve barely stretched you. Just wait.”

“Then hurry up.”

Ryoma scraped his teeth against his shoulder and thrust his fingers again. Ryoma still held his erection, didn't move his hand, kept Xander in a firm grip. It shouldn't have made Xander so needy. 

Xander lowered himself down onto his elbows and rocked into Ryoma's hand. That snapped Ryoma into action. He pumped his hand down his length, and Xander let out a strangled moan. Ryoma bent over Xander’s body, sucking and scraping his teeth over a spot on his shoulder. It was sharp, pain that wove into pleasure. Ryoma pulled away, fingers and lips leaving him. “Shit. I’m sorry.” Xander couldn't think why he was apologizing, except for stopping. “I got carried away. I didn't mean to mark you.”

Ah, that was it. Xander laughed. It croaked in his throat. “At least no one will see it.”

“Still. I'm sorry, Marx.”

“Let me mark you then. So we'll be even.”

“Roll over.” Ryoma tugged on his shoulder, and Xander rolled onto his back. Xander hadn't meant to say that. It was a thought, stupid, impulsive, slipped out. But he wouldn't take it back, not when Ryoma bent down and kissed him eagerly, like the thought itself was so alluring. They broke apart and Ryoma guided Xander's head to his neck. “Here,” Ryoma muttered.

“Isn't that too obvious?” Ryoma wore that absurd neck armor, but Marx wouldn't know the high prince’s dress habits. There was also the rest of the masque, the low collar of Ryoma's suit. People would see. People would know. It would be easier to see as the days passed.

Ryoma only smirked though. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes. Well,” he pressed a kiss to Ryoma's neck. He couldn't stand to be that close to Ryoma and not kiss something. “It's not convenient.”

“I don't mind. I'd like to see your marks.”

“You can't do that to me,” Xander muttered. “I can’t…you have to realize…”

Ryoma threaded his fingers through Xander's hair as he began to kiss Ryoma's neck. “I know. I understand. This is all for me.”

Xander spoke softly against his skin. “But maybe you can darken the one you already made.”

Xander couldn't see Ryoma's face, but he felt like he could feel the heat of his grin. “Maybe I will.” He pulled away just a bit, reapplying lube on his fingers. Ryoma returned to Xander and ran one finger around Xander, then pushed it in, then a second, then a third, and Xander bit Ryoma's neck to muffle his moan. Ryoma thrust three fingers and Xander arched underneath him, gasping against his neck. He bit, sucked. He adored the feel Ryoma’s skin under his tongue, against his teeth. He ran his tongue over the black mark, felt Ryoma shutter when he pulled back. “Keep going,” Ryoma muttered.

“Ryoma—” Xander broke off as Ryoma curled his fingers up, gasping against his neck.

“Please. I don’t care about anything else.”

Xander could feel his heart in his chest, pounding loud, so loud it hurt. Xander scraped his teeth against Ryoma’s throat and wrapped his legs around Ryoma’s thighs, urging him closer. Xander focused on the sensations, on how Ryoma felt. Ryoma’s fingers, thrusting and curling and stretching inside of him. Ryoma’s breath, panting, breezing against his hair. The feel of his skin under his tongue. His whisperings of ‘Marx’. How the hickeys looked bruised around his neck, a thick ring splattered dark.

Ryoma’s fingers kept curling against his prostate, a relentless rhythm, and Xander had to stop marking his neck, just tilted his head back and panted at the ceiling. Ryoma thrust one last time and kept his fingers inside of him. He leaned down and kissed Xander’s throat. Xander pressed his heels against his thighs. “You ready, Marx?”

“Yes…yes.” Ryoma pulled back, eased his fingers out. Xander ached. He wanted more. He wanted Ryoma. He stared at the dark purple and red marks scattered around his neck before he slipped out of view. It was so lovely. He wanted to keep looking at it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep Ryoma. It was their last night, he reminded himself. The last time they’d do this. The last time he’d let himself do something so selfish. The last time he’d see Ryoma smile. There were still more lasts that he could count. He sat up, stared at Ryoma’s back. He felt too sentimental. This entire affair was too wrapped up in feelings. It wasn’t supposed to be about that.

Xander moved back onto his knees and elbows, waited for Ryoma. He heard Ryoma pause. “Marx.”

He swallowed, felt sand scratch his throat. “I’m waiting, Ryoma.”

“Was there something wrong before? Marx, I—”

“I know. We’re both sentimental. But it’s our last night. We shouldn’t…I don’t think I could…” Xander let out a breath. “I’m sorry. The words are sticking.”

“Marx…”

“Ryoma. I started this because I wanted to be lowered without consequence. Do you remember? So use me, Ryoma.”

“Marx,” he muttered. He leaned over Xander, pressing a kiss to his shoulder—not the one with his mark, the one with the scar—put his hands on top of Xander’s. His warmth draped over his back. “Is this what you need?”

“Yes. Do you not want to?”

“I want to have sex with you. I want you to be happy. And this gets me both. It’s not ideal, but…” he trailed off and Xander laughed.

“Nothing about this is ideal, Ryoma.”

“I know.” He ran his hands over Xander’s thighs and Xander closed his eyes and shivered. “I really liked being able to see your face,” Ryoma said, quietly.

Xander laughed a bit. “You haven't seen it this entire time.”

Ryoma’s hands ran over his back, then slowly withdrew them. “You’re right,” he sighed, and Ryoma tossed his red and white mask on the bed next to Xander.

Xander jerked, pushed himself up. “Ryoma—” Xander started and stopped when Ryoma wrapped his arms around Xander’s chest and placed his face between Xander’s shoulder blades. He could feel Ryoma’s forehead against his skin.

“I don’t want you to look. Just…” he took a in breath and exhaled it against Xander’s spine. “Marx. It’s—it’s our last night. I need this. Marx.”

Xander squeezed his eyes shut and let out a breath. “Take mine off too. You can’t look. But, Ryoma…” he trailed off and squeezed his eyes shut as Ryoma’s hands threaded into his hair and he undid Xander’s mask.

“I understand, I understand Marx,” Ryoma muttered and the golden lion slipped from Xander’s face fell onto the pillow. Xander pushed them off the bed. The clatter they made when they hit the ground seemed far away. Ryoma slid his hands up Xander’s thighs, spread his cheeks apart. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Xander said, his bare forehead pressed against his knuckles. “Don’t hold back. Please.”

Ryoma pushed into Xander, groaning. He thrust deeply, none of the gentle lead in from previous nights. Three thrusts pushed their hips flush together. Ryoma panted against his spine. Xander pressed his face into the pillow, half to make sure his face stayed hidden, half to muffle his shocked moans as pleasure shocked through him. “Marx—”

“Yes. Keep going.”

Ryoma held his hips, scraped his teeth against the mark he made on Xander’s shoulder, and continued thrusting. Xander groaned into the pillow. It ached, felt so good that he could just focus on that and get lost in that.

They should’ve kept it like this, with Ryoma’s ragged breathing as he thrust into Xander, little regard for how the Nohrian felt beneath him. Like the third night. But really, he should’ve let their relationship end that second night. He shouldn’t have gone up to see Ryoma again that second night and called it curiosity. He shouldn’t have pulled Ryoma back that first night. He should’ve refused the dance.

“Ryoma,” Xander moaned after a thrust caused his legs to shake.

“Marx, Marx, you’re so good, you feel so good,” Ryoma muttered behind him. He reached down and wrapped his hand around Xander’s erection. Xander’s hips snapped towards his hand, his breath caught in his throat. “Yes, you’re so good,” then he lapsed into Hoshidan, but Xander could feel the praise, each breath against his back warming down to his chest. His shoulders shook at each thrust. Xander kept his face in the pillows, panting heavily, pushing back his hips towards Ryoma. He wanted more. But it was already more than enough. He could feel warmth coiling behind his navel, stroked out by Ryoma’s hand. He was panting Ryoma’s name into the pillow. His legs shook at each thrust.

It was too soon. He wanted it to last longer. But he gasped Ryoma’s name, arched underneath him, and came. “Keep going,” Xander moaned, but Ryoma’s pace didn’t falter. Xander squeezed his eyes shut as each thrust felt like too much, shocking bursts of pleasure out of him. He wondered if he could’ve came again in the snap of Ryoma’s hips. He wanted to, wanted it to last long enough. He wanted, but Ryoma began to pant, Hoshidan and Common looping and repeating. He gasped soon after, and Xander closed his eyes as Ryoma came.

Ryoma’s hips stilled and he panted against Xander’s back. He pulled out and scraped his teeth over Xander’s shoulder. “Marx…How was that, Marx?”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted.” Wasn’t what he needed though. There wasn’t an easy answer for that. His body ached, still sensitive, skin hot where Ryoma touched him. He wanted to lose himself and feel less but Ryoma didn’t treat him that way.

“You were so good,” Ryoma muttered. Xander shivered as he pulled out. He waited for Ryoma to leave, but his hands were still moving over his skin. “Stay,” Ryoma said, running his hands down Xander's back. “Can we stay like this?”

“I…What do you mean?”

“I know it's bound to be uncomfortable for you,” he ran his hands down Xander’s thighs, fingers sticking in a mixture of lube and cum, “and I realize that we’re not wearing masks. But I want to draw this out.”

“Yes.”

“You want to stay?”

“Lie down first.” He had more he wanted to say. The words stuck in his throat, barbed there. Ryoma laid down behind Xander, pressed against his back. Ryoma tilted his nose into Xander’s hair and Xander rolled onto his side. Ryoma wrapped his arm around Xander’s waist and pulled him against his chest. Their legs wound together. Xander didn’t know what to do with his hands. He stared down at Ryoma’s hands as they stroked a line of hair on his stomach. “We can’t stay here all night.”

“How long can we stay then?”

Xander thought. Ryoma breathed against his skin. “Most of it, I suppose.”

Ryoma chuckled. “How irresponsible.”

“It’s your influence.”

“You can’t blame this all on me.”

“I can if it’s true.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve been absolutely horrific for me.”

“What have I done, Marx?”

Ryoma's tone teased, but Xander couldn't think of a response. All he could think was how he stood on crooked ground now when it was level a week ago. “Far too much,” Xander said, with none of the lightness of Ryoma’s voice. “Sorry.” Xander kept talking. He couldn’t stop. It burned inside him more than his anxiety could quiet him, needed to be said. “It’s infuriating how much you’ve made me realize how much I’m not content with how my life is.”

And Ryoma laughed softly. “I could say the same for you.” Xander looked down as Ryoma ran his hand over Xander’s thighs before he moved back up to Xander’s stomach pulled him closer still. He let out a slow breath. "If this were a story," Ryoma said against Xander's hair, "I think this would be the part where I’d say that I love you."

"Oh?" Xander said calmly, wondered if Ryoma could feel the pink flush on his skin, could hear how his heart pounded and echoed.

"Yes." Ryoma didn't elaborate.

Xander scoffed, looked down at Ryoma's hands linked over his stomach. "We've known each other for week." Technically longer, but Ryoma didn't know that. Xander wasn't even sure if he'd count that as knowing Ryoma.

"I realize that." Ryoma's thumb moved against Xander's skin. "That's why I said that if this was a story, I'd say it." Ryoma pressed his lips against Xander's shoulder. "Still, it somehow rings true."

Xander put his hand over Ryoma's and moved his fingers over his knuckles. "Does it?"

"This whole situation is very odd. The things we’ve done, the things we’ve talked about. No matter which day it was, if you approached me and told me I’d end up here, right now, I would laugh. Do not take that the wrong way. It's been absolutely wonderful.” Ryoma’s fingers ran over Xander’s stomach. “Which is the problem. If it was just sex, I'd be fine. If it was just companionship, that would be fine too. But it's not, it's you and your company and how that makes me feel. It's your views, what you say and how I hang off of your every word. It's learning more sharing a pillow than all my diplomatic meetings. It's the honesty I’ve given you, freely, without fear. It’s what you’ve shared back, despite everything. You’ve given me so much, Marx. I hope you understand that. The end of this honestly terrifies me. I don't want to think of not doing this, feeling like this. I don’t know when I’ll be allowed to experience something even similar to this. And maybe that's what makes the idea of love feel true."

Xander felt like he was buzzing, butterfly wings fluttering in his head, under his skin. He almost felt sick. He sighed, tried to push his thoughts away, focus on what he had, Ryoma's hands, Ryoma's warmth. Ryoma’s words repeated in his head. It couldn’t just be sex. It had to be something more. He didn’t know what it was though. He didn’t even know if he wanted to label it.

He couldn’t just leave it all unsaid though. It’d be easier if he could, if he just let anxiety take over his voice and silence him. But Ryoma was pressed against his back, his legs between Xander’s. Ryoma made Xander do idiotic things. He let out a long sigh. “I don’t like to think of these things in concrete terms.” Xander took Ryoma's hand and put it against his bare face. "But know that I am forever grateful for this, for you. I never would've done this, never could let myself do this. But you gave me this opportunity. I’m grateful to you, Ryoma. I will never forget this."

Ryoma was quiet, his fingertips moving over Xander's face. His fingers moved over Xander’s lips. “Is Marx your real name?”

Xander was silent for a long moment. Ryoma’s fingers traced over his cheeks. “I told you that it’s in poor form to say your name at a masquerade. Just because I gave you one, doesn’t mean that it’s mine.”

Ryoma didn’t say anything, let out a long breath against his neck.

“What did you expect?” Xander asked softly, with no venom that should’ve been in his voice. His voice sounded sad. He felt sad. “This is a masque, Ryoma. Nothing is real.”

“At least have this be real. Please. Tell me your name.”

Xander closed his eyes. Ryoma’s fingers traced over his eyelids. “And what would you do with it once you have it?”

“Thank you. I want to know who to thank for everything that has happened.”

“Does it really matter? You’ve spent a week thinking of me as ‘Marx’. I’ve responded to you as if it were my name. In your head, I exist as Marx. And everything that has happened will stick with the two of us as ‘Marx’.” Xander let out a long breath. “That is…What I want to say…Think of me as Marx. Nothing else. No one else.” He shut his mouth. Everything else he held back. Xander took great pride in Marx only existing in Ryoma's life. It was almost frightening. It gnawed at his ribs. There was still more to say. That he couldn’t spill so easily.

“Marx then,” Ryoma said, running his finger between Xander’s eyebrows and down his nose. Ryoma flattened his palm against Xander's eyes and rolled him into his back. Xander's heart leapt into his throat as Ryoma leaned down and kissed him. Xander shifted on the bed, hooked one leg up around Ryoma's waist while keeping his hands flat on the bed. Ryoma pulled away and didn't move, staring down at Xander. For a second, Xander wanted Ryoma to take his hand away, to look down and see Xander below him, flushed pink and vulnerable, wanted to know what he'd think of him.

Ryoma laid back to Xander's side, rolled Xander so he was facing away, and removed his hand. He didn’t know if he was relived or disappointed. The two wove together. “Stay with me longer, Marx. Let's draw that you out as long as we can.”

“Yes,” Xander said, without thinking. Even when he thought more, he didn't want to take it back. Ryoma’s warmth against his back, wound around his waist, legs tangled together. The masquerade outside didn’t matter. He was drowning in Ryoma. He put his hands over Ryoma’s and held him. He could’ve fallen asleep in Ryoma’s arms. He was relaxing enough. “Talk to me, Ryoma. So I don’t fall asleep.”

“You could fall asleep in this giant wet spot?”

“I wonder whose fault that was,” Xander said, smiling a bit when Ryoma pinched his side. He could feel Ryoma’s teasing grin. 

“What should we talk about?”

“I don’t care. Nothing serious. I just want to hear your voice, really.”

They talked. Ryoma’s breath warmed his back. They shared stories, lighthearted ones. Xander told Ryoma how he used to ride wyverns and Ryoma responded by saying how he fell off of a pegasus and almost got trampled and vowed to never ride anything again. Ryoma shared stories from his siblings, and Xander responded with similar ones. They felt the similar most in those moments, though the long conversation about swords and sparring came close. Ryoma touched his face a lot in that conversation. He wondered if that meant anything, if Ryoma could somehow piece together a face under his fingertips (but considering he was still in bed, his voice still soft, it was probably just about the intimacy). Ryoma told him at one point to bury his face into the pillow so he could pull the blanket over them. Then, he layered kisses down Xander’s spine before he settled back against Xander’s side. “I couldn’t help it.”

“I’m sure you could’ve.” He held Ryoma’s hands to his stomach, to keep him from going further down. 

“Are you hiding something from me, Marx?”

“Not at all.”

Ryoma pulled against Xander’s hands, trying to reach down.

“Ryoma, we don’t need another wet spot.”

“Fine, fine. Where were we?”

“Your brother just shot you in the head on purpose.”

“Accident. It was an accident.”

“Really? From my angle, it sounded like it was on purpose.”

Time passed, like that. The music from the masquerade bled in occasionally. They talked over it. The night continued. Ryoma pulled him closer. “We can’t stay,” he said.

Xander let out a long breath. “I know.”

“We might have wasted most of the night already.”

Xander had a duty that he couldn’t forget. “There’s still time left.”

“To stay.”

“I…no.” Xander felt his stomach boiling. Last night, the final time he’d be with Ryoma. Once he left the room, it’d be over. He didn’t want that. But he couldn’t stay. 

“I understand,” Ryoma said. “I’ll get dressed first. Keep your face in the pillow. I don’t want us to look if we don’t have to.”

That should’ve been a comfort, that Ryoma was still fearful of who he’d be to Xander. But it didn’t comfort him at all. It didn’t sting either. It just was, and it ate at him. Xander rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, hugged it to his face. Ryoma kissed down his back, kissed a spot on his shoulder, then slid out of bed. “We left a mess on the floor. What happened to folding?”

“I stopped caring,” Xander said, voice muffled.

“And my mask?”

“I shoved it off the bed.”

“Ah, here.” Xander heard Ryoma walk around the bed. He stopped. “Marx, give me your hand.”

Xander slid his hand out from under the pillow and laid it beside him for Ryoma to take. Ryoma took his hand and stretched it forward, and Xander’s fingers brushed his lips. Xander hissed in a breath. “You’re—”

“Returning the favor. It’s not fair otherwise.”

But Xander knew who Ryoma was. He didn’t need to piece something together in the paths of his face. He moved his hand over Ryoma’s lips, traced over his cheeks. He thought of Ryoma, the high prince, his stern face, but the whole of it. He thought of Ryoma, the masked man, the kindness he could see. He felt their faces, tried to see them together. Ryoma’s breath tickled the underside of his wrist. He ran his fingers over Ryoma’s forehead, traced his thumb over his eyebrow. He let his hand move back down his face, back to his lips. “Thank you,” Xander said quietly.

He felt Ryoma smile, tried to take that smile and put it on the rest of his face. He couldn’t see it. Ryoma slipped away from him. “Keep your head down. Just in case.” Ryoma left the room.

Xander could feel cracks like glass inside of him. Every breath shuttered in his lungs. It was just a week. Maybe a day if they put all their time together. Logically, Xander should be able to put distance between them. Xander had trouble doing what he was supposed to do. It held true even now. He couldn’t be distant. He had too many thoughts, fears. 

He’d see Ryoma again. It wouldn’t be the same. Words, feelings, needs, burned his lungs. Final night, he’d never get to feel this way again. He couldn’t let it happen again. Would there be a problem if he tugged Ryoma back into bed? Yes, there was, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. But it wasn’t, at the same time.

He was a mess. Ryoma made him a mess. Wants crossed over and intertwined with things he should’ve refused. He burned with words that he wanted to say, was too terrified to have Ryoma know them. He wished his thoughts made sense. He wished they traveled along the same path. They didn’t, and it hurt.

Ryoma walked back into the room. “If your outfit faired as well as mine, you will not be happy with how it fits.”

“Ah.” Xander didn’t have enough energy to tease, not when he was alone with thoughts for so long.

Ryoma put his hand on Xander’s back. “Marx. Do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?”

“So you can get dressed without having to worry about me looking.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“Marx.”

“You don’t…you don’t have to.”

Ryoma ran his fingers over Xander’s shoulder blade. “I want a proper goodbye too.”

Was that what Xander wanted to say? He didn’t know anymore.

“I’ll sit on the edge of the bed. I’ll be facing the door. I won’t be able to see the washroom. I’ll put your clothes over there. I won’t look. I promise.”

“I understand.”

Ryoma kissed his spine, then moved back. He moved, then the bed sagged as he sat down. “You can move whenever, Marx.”

Xander sat up, his hand over his own eyes. He slid his fingers open just a bit, so he could see where Ryoma was. He was, true to his promise, sitting with his back to the bed. He didn’t turn to look. Xander glanced at the floor, where his mask sat, golden lion face down. He looked back at Ryoma and slid his hand away from his face. There was so much he wanted to say. Just for him, to Ryoma, not for Ryoma. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to get through the following nights. He leaned across the bed and pressed his forehead against Ryoma’s back, wound his arms around Ryoma’s stomach. He spoke, and he fought to keep his voice level. "Mi dispiace, Ryoma. Ti ho mentito per tutto questo tempo, e mi dispiace." 

Ryoma stiffened at his apology, tried to look over his shoulder, but stopped. “Marx?”

He continued. His voice sounded hoarse. Emotion tore at his throat. "Avrei dovuto smettere tempo fa, ma non l'ho fatto, e mi dispiace. Sono stato troppo bene con te.” He stopped, continued, his voice softer. “È stato _meraviglioso_ , la settimana più bella della mia vita." 

“Marx, you’re—you’re speaking in Nohrian.”

"Lo so, lo so."

“Marx, I can’t understand you.”

Xander gripped Ryoma’s shirt. “I know.” He let Nohrian spill again. “Non posso dirtelo, Ryoma. Non puoi sapere. Ma non riesco a tenermelo dentro. Ti ringrazio. Grazie, grazie, grazie.” He kept going. He was rambling now. He didn’t care. “Vorrei potessimo continuare. Lo voglio.” Xander laughed against his back, remembered their conversation during their dance, Ryoma’s ridiculous proposal. How appealing it was. “Avevi detto di volermi portare con te in Hoshido.” He shook his head against Ryoma’s back. “Lo voglio, voglio venire con te, ma non posso, Ryoma, non posso. Non mi è consentito avere ciò che desidero. Voglio vedere come sarebbe potermi svegliare al tuo fianco. Non posso." That last denial was choked out. He sounded like he was ready to cry. His eyes were dry.

Ryoma wrapped his hands around Xander’s and squeezed them. “Marx, Marx, it’s okay…it’s okay.”

Xander laughed. It tasted bitter on his tongue. "Se andasse tutto bene, non soffrirei ogni secondo che ti sto accanto.” He sighed against his back and laughed again. “Non riuscirò a riprendermi da questo, Ryoma,” he said, sounding mocking, mocking himself. “Non dovrei tenere a nessuno. Se fossi come Hephaestion, allora saresti morto, e mi andrebbe bene. Quello posso sopportarlo."

Ryoma stiffened. He must’ve recognized a name that wasn’t his. “Marx, I’m going to move. Keep your head down, I’m going to move.” Ryoma began to turn, slowly, scooting and moving his legs onto the bed, moving Xander so his head pressed against his chest and it’d be so easy, so easy for him to just look up or for Ryoma to move him, but Ryoma put his hands on the back of his head and held him down. He wound his fingers into Xander’s hair. “Marx,” he said, like he was trying to start saying something, but he didn’t. “Marx,” he said again.

“Gods, I’m sorry, I just.”

“I know. I understand.” 

“I needed to say that.”

“I understand, but you don’t need to apologize for anything. ‘Mi’…‘mi dispiace’ is sorry. Isn’t it?”

Xander stiffened underneath him.

Ryoma laughed quietly, breath puffing against Xander’s back. “I had a feeling. So I asked a colleague how to apologize in Nohrian. Apologies, and I think I heard thanks.”

“Ryoma—”

“Nothing else though.” Ryoma ran his fingers through Xander’s hair. “Nothing else.” Ryoma started mumbling in Hoshidan. It sounded like a prayer. Xander might’ve been projecting. They stayed that way. Xander's arms fell limp. He put himself in a place where he couldn't move. He had to lay in Ryoma’s arms. He didn't want Ryoma to see him, the crown prince so utterly defenseless and low (and that was true but at the same time he just wanted Ryoma to know). Ryoma sat up, threaded his fingers through Xander's hair. “When your hair isn't held back, it really falls in your face.”

“And what do you think of that?”

“I think it's beautiful. Was I supposed to think anything else?”

Xander didn't have an answer.

“Cover my eyes, Marx. You need to get dressed.”

Xander slid his hand up Ryoma's arm, to his shoulder, to his neck, to his face. He pushed his palm against plaster and moved back. Ryoma turned on the bed, faced the wall. Xander slowly removed his hand. Ryoma did not look back as Xander crossed the bed and picked up his golden mask, his clothes. Xander locked himself in the washroom. He leaned against the wall and breathed. In for five, out for five. He got dressed, washed his face. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. His clothes were wrinkled, askew. Not amount of fiddling could right it, make it look like it hadn’t been lying on the floor most of the night. He tried anyway.

Xander finally left the room. Ryoma was standing in the middle of it. He smiled a bit at Xander. “You’re still here,” Xander said.

“Of course. We’ve still got to say our goodbyes.”

“And here I thought that’s what we were doing the entire time.”

Ryoma didn’t respond, stepped forward and cupped Xander’s face and kissed him. Xander closed his eyes. Ryoma’s touch grounded him and he let out a breath when they separated. Ryoma ran his finger over Xander’s lips. Xander kept his eyes closed, until Ryoma stepped back again. Ryoma opened up his jacket and pulled out a handkerchief and held it out. “Do you want this back?”

Xander took it. “The favor.”

“Yes.”

Xander turned it over in his head. “Do you even know what the tradition a favor is?”

“As well as I know other Nohrian tradition.”

“Not well?”

“Not well.”

Xander chuckled and shook his head. He fluffed it out and refolded it. “The practice of giving a favor originated when soldiers went off to war. The idea was that if you gave one something of yours, then they have to return in order to give it back,” and Xander handed the handkerchief back to Ryoma. Ryoma stared down at it, then took it. Xander let his hand drop down to his side. “At the very least, you’ll have something to remember me by.”

“And what will you have Marx?”

A lifetime of anxiety. “The vision of a better future.”

“I’ll be sure to help make something you’d be proud of.” Ryoma reached down and took Xander’s hand. They walked together to the door, and Xander unlocked it. Xander turned back and locked the door again. He flinched at the sound of the lock clicking into place. It was too loud. Xander turned back to Ryoma and Ryoma pressed in and kissed him, pushing him back against the door. Ryoma’s fingers stroked his wrist. He pulled back. Xander stared down at Ryoma, at how good he looked, at the scattering of bruises along his neck that peeked over the black of his collar. “Marx. You’ve made this masquerade worthwhile.”

“Yes. I mean—you’ve done the same. Yes.”

Ryoma smiled a little bit as Xander flushed, cursing his heavy tongue causing him to stumble. His smile wasn’t mocking though. It was kind, gentle. It was very much ‘Ryoma’. “I do hope I’ll see you again. My thanks for this week, again.”

“You’re welcome, Ryoma.” Xander stepped away from the wall, and Ryoma let him pass. They turned and walked in opposite directions. The masquerade continued, but their relationship was over.

Xander felt exhausted as he walked down the stairs. The crowd did not make him feel any better. All those people he had ignored for Ryoma. Selfishness. He had to make up for that. He saw so many familiar faces. He looked at everyone and tried to figure out who to help first. No one seemed appealing. Everyone was an obstacle. He’d take a bit more time for himself. He made his way to a table, secluded, in the corner. He sat down and looked up, only to find Laslow standing in front of him. 

Laslow smiled a bit. “Milord.” He looked a bit sad, for some reason.

“Ah.” He apparently followed him. Xander couldn’t say when he did that. 

“Are you doing alright?”

It was pity on his face then. “I’m fine. It’s been a long night. I’m coping.”

“You haven’t been down here all night though.”

Xander didn’t answer.

“Now that’s a topic, isn’t it?” Laslow took a seat next to Xander. He fixed his mask, looked at Xander. Xander waited for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Xander sighed. “You’ll have to forgive me, Laslow. It’s been a long night. I don’t have the energy at the moment to be proper.”

“Well that’s not a problem, is it? You’ve told me many times that I’m not proper at all. And I’m not going to be proper.”

“Laslow.”

“After all…you can’t prove it’s me. This is a masquerade, isn’t it? You can’t tell anyone apart here.”

“As I’ve noticed.”

Laslow was silent. “Ah.”

“Indeed.”

Laslow cleared his throat. “Well since we are just men here, and you can’t prove that I am your retainer and I can’t say that you are my lord…” Laslow let the thought drag before he smiled a bit sadly. “You’ve been…with him all night, haven’t you?”

Xander stared at him.

“I mean, I feel like I know the answer. But if you said it…I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Xander sighed.

“You know, even though I’m very good at enjoying myself, I still found myself looking out for you and Peri—and thank gods for that you wouldn’t believe how many people she’s nearly stabbed with silverware—so I’ve noticed you and him together. And…it was odd, to say the least.”

“Laslow, since we are both men and I do not physically have the energy to be subtle: I have been teetering on the edge of an attack nearly all night and you are not helping.”

“My point!” Laslow said, loudly. “I’m glad that you at least found some selfish pleasure. You honestly seemed to be enjoying yourself. It got you out of this event, at the very least.” Laslow bumped Xander’s arm with his elbow. “Will you be alright?”

How could he be? He was content with his life a week ago. Then Ryoma kissed him. Then Xander realized how much he wanted to let go and not think. Then he choked himself on Ryoma’s cock and enjoyed it the entire time. Then they continued and Xander could still feel Ryoma’s fingers tracing down his ribs and how good it felt to be touched that way. Then they talked, all too serious. Then Xander realized, no, he had never been content and he wanted to change, himself, Nohr. And then he was sitting at a table with his retainer, tired, wanting even more from Ryoma when he already had too much. He was a mix of emotions, looping, contradicting, exhausting him.

“Time,” Xander said, once he found his voice. “Time is all I need. It will pass. I will not think anymore of it.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Laslow said, because he never knew Xander had retainers before Laslow and Peri. Laslow knew a lot, more than his younger siblings did. He had to, he was in close contact with him nearly all the time. He had to realize the extent of his anxiety, less he wouldn’t be able to his job. But there was still distance. He did not know who came before him.

“Now, I should do my job,” Xander stood up.

“Peri!” Laslow called, and Peri was jogging as best as a woman could in heels towards them. Xander couldn't say whether she had been walking towards them and Laslow had greeted her or if she was loitering elsewhere and Laslow just yelled at her to bring her over. Laslow stood up and clasped Xander's shoulder. Xander glanced at his hand. “Peri, have I told you about Saizo?”

She hummed as she chewed her lip, then she grinned and shook her head. “Nope!”

“You've got to hear this. You too, I think you'll enjoy this.” Laslow pulled Xander back into his chair. “So we all remember Saizo. Wears a mask all the time. But this time, the mask is on the _top_ of his face instead of the bottom. I met him on the first night and now every night I run into him and I try to put his face together. Get the full Saizo. He's actually pretty annoyed about that.”

“I can't imagine why,” Xander said. “Now, again, I really must be going.”

“Hey, Xander,” Peri said with a grin. She hadn't taken a seat, still standing in front of him. She had a wide stance, hands on her hips. Like she was blocking his view. Like she was stopping others from seeing him. “Wanna hear about how I almost stabbed someone with a spoon.”  
“I—”

“I was there,” Laslow interrupted. “You do.”

“I do?”

“Great!” And Peri launched into a story. And when that one was done, another started. Xander felt no pressure to participate. Peri and Laslow did all the legwork, he just had to listen. That was how they helped him. They were an endless conversation, something that he could pay attention to, but not feel the need to be a part of it. It was amusing, and it helped. It was different than how his previous retainers handled him. When Velvet had realized how deep Xander's anxiety took him, he taught him to hold himself together in public until he could unravel in private. He taught him how to cope (and Xander never did get the chance to ask if Velvet drew from experience; hindsight said yes, but Velvet was twelve years his senior and always seemed unflappable). Hephaestion was tactile, was always with him, brought him down to earth with his hands in his hair. Even before their relationship, he did that. They were friends first.

Ryoma would be like Hephaestion. He had already proven it before, in the brief times Xander’s guard slipped. Xander focused on Laslow’s story of yet another failure of a flirt. The rest of the night passed like that, and Xander relaxed. With them, there was nothing to worry about. He almost believed it.

Then someone passed by, saying that it was almost midnight, and all their hard work shattered. Fear stabbed him, so intense it was almost physical. Peri tilted her head at him. He stood, and his limbs didn't feel like his anymore, stiff, unworkable. “If you'll excuse me,” Xander said.

“Xander?”

“Alone,” he said, because that's where his attacks should be. He moved past the crowd, didn't look at anyone, walked up the stairs. He found himself at the same place he had been with Ryoma so many nights, their little space tucked away in the shadows, away from everyone else. Xander thought it took longer for habits to form.

But he was there, and he wasn't going to leave. Midnight came, chimed through the hall, louder than the music. The people grew even louder than that. Xander leaned over the railing and watched the masquerade clammer below him as the bell rang. “Unmask, unmask!” People shouted. Then, “Via le maschere!” followed by a laugh and Hoshidans joined in. Not many understood, but the sentiment was still there.

Xander found Ryoma easily enough. His eyes seemed to find him no matter what, like a magnetic pull. Ryoma removed his mask and spun around, staring at every blond man holding a lion mask, searching desperately. It honestly felt like Ryoma couldn't identify Marx if he wanted to. He stared at everyone too long, he wasn't sure who to look for. Xander could've laughed at him. He could've cried. In the end, Ryoma stood in the crowd, that red and white mask in his hands. His brow pressed together and he turned one more time, then began to push through the crowd. People still yelled for people to unmask, caught in the moment, even as they danced with barefaced guests.

Xander backed away from the railing and hit the wall. “Via le maschere,” he muttered, mockingly, then removed his own mask. He looked to the staircase, and no one came. No desperate Ryoma searching for the masked man. Marx might as well have faded into the night with no sign left behind when midnight chimed. 

Xander started to laugh and he slid down the wall. He threw the mask away from him. He hoped it shattered. Xander didn't look though and pressed his face against his knees. “Via le maschere.”

The masquerade was over. He was Prince Xander again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, super, super grateful for khalyelyn for providing these translations! Xander's declaration in the middle of the fic was the first bit of translation I gave her and I'm so happy to see it in print! She's probably the only person to get the full impact of that scene, but I still really everything that was put into it, what it says about Xander. I'm so glad that the idea of Xander giving a rambling declaration in another language was able to be put to print.
> 
> And now, the translation of that declaration:   
> "I'm sorry, Ryoma. I've been lying to you this entire time and I'm sorry. I should have stopped earlier, but I didn't, and I'm sorry. I've enjoyed this too much. This has been wonderful, the most wonderful week of my life. (I know, I know.) I can't tell you, Ryoma. You can't know. But I can't keep it in. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. I wish we could continue. I want to. You said you wanted to take me to Hoshido. I want, I want, but I can't, Ryoma, I can't. I just don't get to keep the things that I want. I want to see what it would be like to wake up next to you. I can't. If it was okay, then I wouldn't feel like I was in pain every single time I'm around you. I'm not going to get over this, Ryoma. I'm not supposed to care about anyone. If you were like Hephaestion, then you'd be dead, and that'd be okay. I can handle that."
> 
> Via le maschere=Unmask (Technically 'off with the masks' and that just sounds so cool I love it)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Friendly reminder that there are two more chapters after this! This show isn't done yet!**


	9. The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lose it  
> Lose it  
> Lose it  
>  _We’ve got to lose it_

The masquerade was over. Xander had left his mask in the hall where he had thrown it (and it did crack, the paint chipped, and Xander couldn't bring himself to care). But Xander's job wasn't over. He had to give his thanks to the remaining guests, stress the themes that they had based the whole masquerade around, and give his goodbyes to them all as they all began their journey home.

Goodbyes, but not to the Hoshidan royals. They'd stay for one more day, so the roads would be clear and safe for them. He tried to tell his heavy bones that Ryoma wouldn't seek him out, that Ryoma hated him, that they wouldn't see each other at all, only long enough for a barely polite conversation.

Somehow, that didn't help.

Laslow and Peri were helping him into his armor when a knock sounded on his door. “Peri, if you would,” Xander said, and she left his side to skip to the door. She let out a gasp and Xander heard a reverent “ _Lady Camilla_ ,” from her. “Let her in,” Xander called.

Peri stepped aside and Camilla walked in. She clicked her tongue. “Really, brother, armor?”

“I have an image to uphold.”

“It's a wonder you haven't cooked in there.”

“From the heat?”

“From your anxiety, brother,” she half cooed and Xander flinched. Camilla was the only sibling who knew that (though he thought that Azura suspected). It was only natural that Camilla would know. She had been with him when he was weaker, saw him in the concubine wars. It was normally a blessing, though now he wished she would leave. “You've been coping, I can tell.”

“My apologies. I'll be more vigilant.”

Laslow grimaced as he latched the last bit of armor.

“Is there something else you'd like to say?”

“I was just passing a message along.”

“What kind of message?”

“A comforting one. I just took a bit of weight off your shoulders. I told the Hoshidan royals about your speech, their presence, the mingling, and their return home. They were a bit disgruntled about staying in our lovely Perugia, but considering they were late to begin with…well, I have no sympathy for them.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“I could’ve told them.”

“I know you could’ve. But I did it for you.”

Xander let out a sigh. “Thank you then.”

“My pleasure,” Camilla said and stared at Xander.

Xander raised an eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Not your face but…” Camilla walked up to him and tugged on his collar. She hummed, then shook her head. “Or maybe not.” She smiled. “My mistake!”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

“Thought I saw something. There was nothing there.”

Xander didn’t respond, rubbed his neck, checked his hand to see if dirt smudged there.

“I’ll be going then. Everyone else should be back in the ballroom waiting. Take your time, if you need to.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Xander said, and watched Camilla leave. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In for five, out for five. 

“Hey, Xander,” Peri said.

Xander nodded.

“Do you got a real fancy speech planned?”

“I do plan to give a speech to everyone here.”

“Uh-huh?” Peri responded, still grinning, and Laslow looked concerned.

“I have not given much thought as to the actual, ah, contents.”

Peri laughed and Laslow sighed. “Good luck, Milord,” Laslow said. 

He supposed he’d need it. He let out a breath and walked out of his room. He felt like he was dragging himself through the halls. He wasn’t looking forward to his afternoon, not just the barely planned speech, but everything leading up to it. The speech would be at the ballroom, the only space that could hold everyone. The royals would arrive first, locking themselves in a room until it was time for Xander’s speech (the same room Xander considered preparing for Ryoma for their final night, one that was bigger than the others, more spacious). The guests would then fill the ballroom and Xander would give his closing speech. Xander’s siblings would then say more personal goodbyes to some of the nobles, but not Xander himself. He would lock himself in an office and not see anyone until he had to bid the Hoshidans farewell. Then, he could recover, with Ryoma another country away.

Laslow and Peri loitered outside with the rest of the retainers as Xander entered the room. Everyone else was already in there. Including Ryoma. Who was completely armored, except for his neck. Xander froze as Ryoma turned to look at him. Xander didn’t think that he had marked Ryoma that darkly, that the bruises would be that prominent. He could feel his face heating up. “What the hell,” Xander hissed.

“I know,” Takumi said from where he was sitting in a corner. That was probably the first time Takumi agreed with a Nohrian in years. It was at least the first time Takumi agreed with Xander.

“Is something the matter, Prince Xander?” Ryoma said, smugly, infuriatingly. Xander wanted to punch him, but he also still wanted to kiss him. Mostly punch him.

“Of course something is the matter! Have you seen your neck?”

“Yes, I am aware of it.”

“Then why the hell would you choose to leave off that absurd neck armor?”

“Absurd?”

“It finally has purpose and you chose not to wear it?”

“I'm sorry that I chose to have actual protection rather than a flimsy handkerchief!”

Handkerchief. Favor. Xander glanced at Ryoma's belt. He was still wearing the favor there. There was something to say, but his throat sealed on him.

For better or for worse, Camilla picked up his slack. “Oh my, you'd think he'd want someone to notice him.” She looked over the heads over everyone and smiled at Xander. It seemed like it was for worse then.

“You can’t go around advertising that you fu—” he glanced at Elise and Sakura “…had relations with someone. It’s highly unprofessional.”

“It really just sounds like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Xander sighed and pinched his nose. “Can someone please get him a scarf? Or something?” He walked past Ryoma, still blushing while Ryoma seemed smug. He heard Kamui mutter that they hadn’t even been here for long and they were already arguing. It stung. He wanted to say that it was because the masquerade failed, that they couldn’t overcome their differences.

But they _did_. And Ryoma had no kind words for him. Not anymore. Xander leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a pot of tea in the corner. It smelled good, but he didn’t think he could keep anything down. He saw Camilla walk over to him and he shook his head. He was left alone the entire time. It was the perfect time to work on his speech. He kept glancing at Ryoma. No neck armor, hickeys dark and noticeable, preparing to stand in front of the remaining crowd, Camilla implying that he wanted to be found. He didn't want to last night. But they both were a contradiction of wants.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Xander could hear chatter as the hall filled for the last time. His speech was half formed ideas, but it had to do. He pushed off the wall, walked across the room, stopped next to Ryoma. Someone had gotten him his armor back. “Do you or your siblings have anything to add?”

Ryoma stared at him for a long moment. “I have some words, if it'd fit.”

“Please tell me you're not using the platform to appeal to whatever poor soul spent the night with you.”

“I will not appeal to better company than you,” Ryoma retorted.

“Then go ahead, should it fit with my themes. It wouldn't do if I talk about unity and I'm the only one talking.”

Ryoma chuckled. “No, it wouldn't.”

That smile didn’t feel like it was for him, like it was meant for Marx. Xander ignored him. Ignored Ryoma, left the room. He called back to everyone else, and they followed him out the door, down the curtained off hallways to stand in front of the crowd that filled the ballroom. They stood on the platform that was reserved for the orchestra before. It put them above the crowd; most Nohrians would only be eye height with the platform. It was be better than staring at the crowd from over a railing.

Xander stood, his siblings at his right, Ryoma and his family at his left. The crowd below him quieted. “First,” Xander said, letting his voice carry, echo in the room, “I must thank all of you for your attendance. I stand above you nobles, above you commoners now. But this was only recently. For a week, I was among you. Many of you recognized me, but many of you still didn't.” Ryoma. Xander closed his eyes and opened them again. “I have had many conversations over this week with many people, people I wouldn’t have been able to talk to otherwise. Perhaps you all share my views. I remember looking down on the ballroom when midnight chimed and everyone continued dancing with no care for whom they were with. That was this masquerade’s greatest strength. You all have spent these seven nights forming a connection, finding companionship with others.” Xander stopped, could feel Ryoma’s hands slipping over his back, hot, burning even though he was not even within arms reach of him.

Ryoma seemed to take that as his cue to step forward. “My time at this masquerade has been the same. I did not expect to enjoy it, I will admit. I know several of my Hoshidans felt the same.” Ryoma looked down at a single point in the crowd and smiled. “I was wrong to think that. For a long time, we’ve pushed against Nohrian ideals because it is supposed to be a difference. And then when wore masks, and can we really say that is a good excuse? Is there really a difference between Hoshidan and Nohrian? Yes, of course there are. But ultimately, I've found that it didn't matter. Without any burdens, it is easy to get along with people. And I have grown in these nights, can look forward to see a brighter future. I can only hope that you all have shared that view.”

“This masquerade started as a Nohrian affair,” Xander cut back in, somehow finding his voice. “I can safely say that it did not end as one, not wholly. I do hope that you feel the same. I hope that you can see past this week, see what this week has meant and can mean, and look towards the future. I hope you can see a future where peace truly feels real, where Nohrian and Hoshidans can exist in close spaces without a mask and a grand affair to soften it. Until then, I thank you for being here, and I wish you all safe travels to your homes.” The speech felt short, rocky, but he saw Ryoma bow to the crowd, Hoshidans bow back, some Nohrians mimicking the movement, and he thought it was good.

Beside him, his siblings slipped down into the crowd, already connecting, saying their goodbyes to those who deserved it. To his surprise, Ryoma stepped down as well. He glanced at him, then looked away again. Xander could see Takumi slip away to leave, Kaumi close behind. Hinoka walked to the end of the platform, stared out into the crowd mingling below her. Sakura came up to her side.

“Who’s he talking to?” Hinoka muttered.

“Oh!” Sakura said. “Do you remember two nights ago? I think that was the one he was arguing with!”

Xander stepped forward, behind them so he could see where they were looking. Xander never noticed at the noble he was arguing with. His focus at the time was solely on Ryoma, so the noble didn’t look familiar at all. Ryoma was talking, smiling amicably as the man grew paler and paler, his mouth dropping open.

Hinoka bumped Sakura’s elbow. “Want to take bets when he starts groveling?”

“ _Hinoka!_ ” Sakura said, covering her mouth.

“What?” Hinoka laughed, turning to Sakura. Her eyes flicked to the side, up at Xander. “Oh. Prince Xander.”

Sakura turned, paled, then stumbled out an excuse and quickly left. Xander frowned. He might’ve been too quiet. “I’m sorry for lurking,” Xander said.

Hinoka’s face was stern. She stood like she always stood, firm stance, ready for battle. But she spoke slowly, more gentle than she had spoken to him in the past. “It’s just…she’s got anxiety,” she waved her hand, “you probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Quite.” He looked up, saw Ryoma had finished talking to the noble. He looked at the two of them, eyes narrowed. He started walking towards them. Xander couldn’t stay. “Well. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Can you wait?” Hinoka interrupted, and Xander couldn’t leave so easily then.

“Your brother is right behind you and I'm not sure he'd tolerate conversation.” He was in earshot now. Xander's heart was beating so fast it hurt.

“I don't think I really got to thank you for before.”

Xander kept his face stone, even when Ryoma stopped walking and pressed his eyebrows together.

“You know. For helping me and reassuring me that first night.”

“There's nothing to thank. The knowledge that you enjoyed the rest of the masque is thanks enough.” The words felt stiff, insincere, Ryoma behind her, watching him like he wasn't someone to be trusted. 

“I…didn’t say I enjoyed it.”

“Well. I presumed.”

“I mean, it was decent, and I survived, and that’s really all I care about.”

“That’s good. Yes.”

Ryoma stepped towards them. “Is something the matter?” Ryoma asked, looking solely at Xander. He was impassive, no emotion. Xander wanted something, wanted to know what he was thinking. He also wanted to just leave. 

“Nothing's wrong, Prince Ryoma. It's just a conversation.”

“I,” he paused, “heard.” What did that mean? Xander's heart was in his throat. Ryoma looked over at Hinoka. “Multiple people helped you over the masquerade?”

Xander let out a breath, intended to be silent, but he ended up laughing. “If you'll excuse me then,” Xander said, turned and left them. He pretended like he couldn't hear Hinoka's voice beginning to raise behind him, calling after him. Ryoma was the biggest moron Xander had ever met, and thank the gods that he was the one that pushed Xander against a wall. It could be spelled out so plainly and yet he'd still question it. It was a blessing, the cruelest blessing Xander had ever received. 

Xander moved back to the room they had gathered in before. No one was there—thankfully—and he went to the back. He poured himself a cup of tea. He drained the cup, gasped, pressed his thumb into each finger on his left hand and cracked them. Xander closed his eyes, set the cup down, tried to breathe. In for five, out for five. The door opened and closed. His breath hitched on the fourth count. He clenched his fist, closed his eyes as footsteps sounded closer and closer. He turned around, saw Ryoma right behind him for only a second before Ryoma reached up and covered his eyes with his hand. 

Xander froze, mouth open in an attempt to speak, unable to push Ryoma away. He should've, because that was what Prince Xander would do, would be insulted by the brazen touch. But Xander had been Marx, and the touch startled him enough to keep him there. And from there, he couldn’t push Ryoma away. They were silent, and Xander didn't know if he wanted to know how Ryoma looked. Xander had no clue what Marx meant to Ryoma. He had no clue which would win out, his hate for Xander, or whatever adoration he felt for Marx. All he could hear was Ryoma’s breathing, calm, steady, revealing nothing. Xander took a shaking breath. “Prince…Prince Ryoma.”

“You’re,” he started, then stopped. “Gods.”

“Prince Ryoma—”

“ _You’re_ Marx?”

Xander put his hand over Ryoma’s wrist and moved his hand away, so he could explain. Ryoma took a step back, looked Xander up and down. Ryoma didn’t look angry. He didn’t look like anything. Xander needed something to work with. “Ryoma, I—”

He looked back up at Xander. “You’re not surprised.”

“I—no.”

Ryoma took a step towards him. Xander stepped back into the table and it rocked, the teacup clicking against its saucer. “You knew.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The second you walked up to me.” Xander swallowed as Ryoma’s eyes widened, the first genuine expression Xander had seen. “The entire time.”

“The entire—” Ryoma stepped closer and Xander slid away from the table, put that distance back between them. “You knew and you still—” he cut himself off. There were dozens of ways he could’ve ended that. Still danced with me. Still followed me. Still kissed me. Still had sex with me. Still humored me. "Why?"

“I…” He was in a mask, he had nothing to lose, and that’s why he dragged Ryoma back. That was justifiable at the time, but now, with Ryoma standing in front of him, it didn’t fit.

“Gods the entire time,” Ryoma muttered, and looked away. Xander wondered if he could slip past him. “Oh, gods, if you knew then…” Xander moved along the wall and Ryoma’s gaze snapped back to him. Anger flashed in his eyes. “Was any of it true?”

“Prince Ryoma—”

“Answer me,” Ryoma hissed. His face hardened and he was angry, honestly angry. Ryoma took another step forward and Xander stepped back against the wall.

“All of it,” Xander said, quickly, and Ryoma’s face fell back into stone. Somehow, that was a relief. His heart pounded in his throat, echoed there. His hands shook. He kept his face as level as he could, but it felt like it didn’t fit. He swallowed. “I gave you honest answers. I was—” he stopped himself. “Prince Ryoma, let me pass.” 

Ryoma stared at him and his face stopped being stone, softened a bit, oddly. “You’re afraid.”

Xander didn’t say anything. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t steel himself, just stared as Ryoma raised his hand and laid his fingers against Xander’s jaw. Xander’s eyes widened. He pressed his palms against the wall. He wanted to grab Ryoma, pull him in, but Xander still didn’t know how important Marx was to Ryoma. This felt like a test. Xander didn’t move, stared down at Ryoma as he slowly leaned up and pressed his lips against Xander’s.

Xander made a soft, startled noise at the contact, stared down as Ryoma slowly moved his lips against Xander’s. His eyes were closed. Xander had no clue how much Marx meant to Ryoma. But he didn’t think that Ryoma would actually stay, no matter how much he cared. It was a possibility that he had entertained, but it never seemed real. Xander raised his hand and grabbed Ryoma’s shirt over his stomach, pressed his knuckles into his side. He closed his eyes as Ryoma pulled away, but it felt like they were back at the masquerade, and he could feel the heat of Ryoma’s smile. “Your entire face turns pink when you blush,” he muttered. Then he laughed quietly.

Xander felt dizzy. He opened his eyes, stared down at Ryoma. He had the faintest smile, barely there, but his face was soft. He didn’t leave. He knew who Xander was and he was still there. He kissed him. He stayed. Xander wasn’t sure how his hand stayed still against Ryoma’s side when the rest of him felt so shaken. 

“Were you going to tell me?”

Xander laughed, shook his head. “Gods, no.”

“Really?” Ryoma’s fingers slid down his jaw.

“I never considered this a possibility. I have…had, everything to lose.”

“But not before?”

“We were both masked. It didn’t matter.”

“I guess it didn’t.” Ryoma slid his hand down to Xander’s chin and leaned up and kissed him again. Xander closed his eyes, kissed back, and Ryoma pressed closer. Their armor hit with a loud clack when their chests touched, but Xander didn’t care. Xander could feel the heat building up again, slow, tentative, unmasked, but there. Ryoma was still there. He slowly moved his hand up to Ryoma’s hair and held him. Xander felt Ryoma smile against his lips, then laugh.

“What is it?” Xander asked, pulling away slightly. 

“I was just thinking back to the other nights,” Ryoma muttered, pressing his lips to Xander’s jaw. Xander tilted his head for him, didn’t even think about not doing it. He breathed out a soft laugh. “To think, I had the crown prince of Nohr on his knees for me,” and he kissed Xander again.

Xander went cold, was still against the wall. He had the high prince, in all his finery, pressing him against the wall. Both of them were wearing their crowns. He had gotten lost in the idea of it all, the fluff, the fairy tale, that he had forgotten himself. What he did was humiliating, beneath him, especially that he did that with the high prince of a rival country. When they were masked men, it didn't matter, but now, unmasked, with Ryoma muttering Xander against his lips, it was different, and Xander was a joke, was a fool.

Xander gripped Ryoma's hair and pulled him back, ignoring his cry of pain. He shoved Ryoma away and marched out of the room, ignoring the shame that stun his cheeks, ignoring Ryoma yelling his name behind him, ignoring how disappointment weighed like stones in his gut. He let the door slam behind him and pushed his way out of the ballroom. 

The masquerade was over. He was a prince. He had a job to do. What happened before was done. He had to remember that again and stick to it this time.

\---

When Xander thought of his past retainers, Hephaestion was more often than not on his mind, but Velvet was still immeasurably important. He was twenty when Garon appointed him as Xander’s retainer, seemed immensely old and wise to an eight-year-old. Xander loved his father, but he always considered Velvet the first adult who ever cared about him. Velvet was the one who noticed Xander’s anxiety and made an effort to help him. As Xander grew, became stronger, became worthy of wielding Siegfried, Velvet was there, encouraging, pushing, telling him when he could stop and when to continue. He tended to his wounds, fought alongside him, fought for him. 

He was loyal, but never too kind. He was never a father figure, always a teacher. He cared, but only enough that their station was acceptable. And then one day, Velvet spoke up when Xander was studying. “You do realize that you're worthy of love, right?”

The thing was, Xander didn’t think he was. When Velvet had asked that, Xander had already seen his siblings die. He felt like he had to choose which siblings he wanted to keep and protect. He’d never have a whole family, not with so many bloodstained hands. 

Only a few months after Velvet asked him that, both Velvet and Hephaestion stood behind and died so Xander could flee. Hephaestion yelled to Xander that he loved him. Xander wondered if that explained why he had begun to fixate on Hephaestion when he was around. He never got an answer. Corpses held no emotion.

And now, Xander, twenty-six, too old and too used to rejection, decided to get invested in the high prince of Hoshido. And look where that got him. He was a fool who thought that if Ryoma accepted that he was Marx, that they’d be on even ground. He had too much hope.

Xander couldn’t get Ryoma out of his head, but that wasn’t important. He had his duty, and that must come first, as always, as it should be. He focused on writing letters, on political pleasantries, thanks for their attendance to the masquerade, consideration for continued relations with Hoshido (and Ryoma, traitorously, looming again and Xander asked for them to consider a restructure of what it means to be Nohrian).

He had a small stack of freshly written letters when he heard commotion down the hall, Laslow and Peri arguing with someone. They got closer, and Xander recognized Ryoma’s booming voice. Xander closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose. He raised his head as Ryoma pushed open the doors.

“Lord Ryoma,” Laslow said, struggling to keep pace beside him, “I, again, must ask you to leave as our Prince Xander has a job that has to be done and it cannot be interrupted.”

Ryoma ignored him, walked over to Xander’s desk and laid his palms on the wood. “You owe me an explanation.”

“Lord Ryoma!” Peri said at his side, glaring up at him.

“It’s all right,” Xander said, setting his pen aside. “Laslow, Peri, you are dismissed.”

They looked at him, looked at each other, glanced up at Ryoma, back to Xander.

“You are dismissed,” Xander repeated. “This is to be a private conversation.”

Xander’s retainers turned and left. Ryoma tapped his knuckles against the wood, and somehow a draft shifted even though the window was closed. Peri closed the door, and for a couple of seconds, he just heard their footsteps going down the hall. Ryoma didn’t say anything. Then he took a deep breath. “You owe me an explanation,” Ryoma repeated. He didn’t look how he did in the room before, that guarded look that softened over time. He wasn’t hiding his emotion, his irritation.

“I do,” Xander agreed, linked his fingers together and let out a breath. “I apologize for my actions during the masquerade.”

Ryoma laughed, shook his head.

“It was irresponsible of me, terribly inappropriate to have such relations with an esteemed guest. My actions are inexcusable, no matter how I attempted to justify them at the time. And for that, I apologize. I do not expect you to accept my apology, but I do expect both of us to put the masquerade behind us, to pretend like it simply never happened, to never bring it up again.”

“You know,” Ryoma said, leaning forward, over the desk. “That wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Xander pressed his brow together, glared back at Ryoma. “I didn’t say it to make you feel better. I said it because it is simply how we can proceed. It is for the best.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem, Ryoma.” Xander looked back down at his letter, started writing again. He hoped Ryoma would leave.

“Are you planning on ignoring this morning?”

“I plan to put it behind me.”

“Along with the rest of the masquerade?”

“Of course.” Xander glanced up at Ryoma. “Prince Ryoma, I don’t know why you’re making this into an issue. It very clearly shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“You sound so certain about this.”

“Of course I’m certain. You don't like me, Ryoma." Xander set his pen down and rested his chin on his fist. It he hoped it looked organic, even when it felt like a presentation in his bones. "You like Marx. You adore _Marx_. You hate Xander. You've made that clear plenty of times before. In fact, you’ve made that obvious this past week.”

Ryoma winced a bit at that.

“Don’t make that face, it’s far too late for me to start taking it personally,” Xander lied. “It’s very noticeable how deep your dislike runs for me. So letting this past week fade into memory shouldn't be a problem at all."

"We’ve had our problems in the past. I cannot deny that. However, we both decided before to work towards changing our countries.”

He couldn’t stay still. Xander tapped his foot against the floor, bit the inside of his cheek. 

“We both decided to move past all of our cultural differences. And I will, for the good of our countries. Two men shouldn’t be a problem in comparison. I'm willing to look past our differences, especially considering the conversations we had before."

Xander grit his teeth. Why was this so hard for Ryoma to grasp? "It was a week, Ryoma. In total, we hardly spent an entire day together. And yet, you seem so eager to hold onto it. Wouldn't it be far easier to just forget about it? I know that I could put it behind me."

"Forgive me if I don't believe that for a moment. You were too honest."

"Mistakes, believe me."

Ryoma leaned over the entire desk. His hands knocked papers out of place. He was so close that Xander’s heart started beating. Ryoma’s expression stopped Xander from considering leaning up and kissing him. He wasn’t the masked man, he was clearly Prince Ryoma talking to Prince Xander. It didn’t matter how much Xander still wanted, he couldn’t with the prince staring down at him. "I don't."

Xander stood up, planted his hands on the table. “What is so hard for you to understand?”

“You. Do you honestly expect me to believe you? Are you going to say that it was just sex now?”

“It was.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I’m not going to do childish back and forth. Perhaps some sentimentality slipped in. Perhaps the nature of the masquerade made it more like a fairy tale, and thus made everything seem more emotional than it had any right to be. But it was just sex.”

“Tell me what you said in Nohrian that final night then.”

Xander went still. Ryoma smirked. “And why,” Xander said slowly, “does that matter?”

“Because I want to know. Is there a problem, Xander? It was just sex, wasn’t it?”

“Ryoma—”

“If it was just sex for you, you wouldn’t have hid your words in a language I don’t know. And you wouldn’t have apologized.” He looked smug and Xander hated that. “Admit there was something worth continuing, Xander. It certainly felt like it that night.”

Xander could feel anger pulsing under his skin, pushing past the anxiety, past whatever lingering feelings he felt for Ryoma. “Ryoma, I want you to push this from your mind—”

“Why are you so insistent on not even talking about this!” Ryoma shouted, interrupting him.

Xander couldn’t stop himself from slamming his hands on the desk, yelling over him. "Because when you suggested what was tantamount to me abdicating the throne, I considered it!" Xander paled and covered his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that. He never should've said that. 

Ryoma stared at him, wide eyed. He seemed to have just then remembered that he wanted to take Xander to Hoshido. He seemed to have realized what it had meant, one prince making that offer to another. Ryoma reached for him and Xander stepped back, out of his reach, and he bumped the chair so it tipped back and fell. "Xander—"

"Leave."

Ryoma walked around the desk. "Xander, we need to talk about this."

Ryoma was right next to him now. He still didn’t feel like the person from the masque, too much the high prince, but he was softer now. Xander still felt that pull towards him, a gravity that drew him towards Ryoma. “No. No we don’t. Gods, Ryoma, we made a mistake, can’t you just wrap your head around that?”

“Is it really a mistake?”

“Do you think having your cock down my throat is anything but a mistake?”

“Well, to be fair, I enjoyed it.”

Xander wanted to punch him.

Ryoma sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That’s not…appropriate.”

“No. It’s not. But to be fair, you not being appropriate is fairly accurate.”

Ryoma glared at him, grit his teeth.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I do have to wonder why you’re even bothering. You very clearly hate me.”

Ryoma didn’t reply for a while, then: “I’m willing to look past it.”

“If you truly mean it, I’d like you to try harder. Because for all that you yell at me for not believing me, I cannot believe you when you say that. I have become very familiar with how Ryoma looked at Marx, and I have not seen that at all since you have come in this room. This has been the Ryoma I have seen since we were children. The same amount of yelling too. Though, I have to give you credit for having a more civil conversation than we’ve had in the past.”

“Xander—”

“Do not interrupt me. You would like to have some semblance of the relationship we had during the masquerade? You are willing to work to have it? Fine. Take that effort elsewhere. Put it towards strengthening our treaty instead of seeking something superficial like this.” Xander couldn’t look at Ryoma any longer. He turned back to his desk and straightened the papers Ryoma knocked out of place. 

“You won’t tell me what you confessed that night, and you truly expect me to believe you still?”

“Why won’t you let that go?” He put the papers down, smoothed them flat. He was struggling to not be aggressive, to rip the papers for the sake of ripping.

“Because it’s still important and relevant.”

Xander clenched his fists, pressed his thumbs into his fingers to crack them. 

“Xander, what do you even want?”

Too much, built up too long. Xander grabbed Ryoma's collar and tugged their faces together, speaking in a growl. "I want to fuck you over my desk." Ryoma's pupils were blown black by the idea. Xander laughed, cold and harsh. "And wouldn't that be apt, to push everything aside for you? I want to lower you like you did to me, leave you desperate and aching and remembering. I want you to feel ashamed." Xander's voice began to lose its edge. "I want to hear you moan my name." His hand shook where it was bunched up in his clothes. "I want to see your face as you come." Xander let him go. "But I am the crown prince. I do not have the luxury of indulging in those choices. And neither do you.” Xander let out a sigh. He grabbed the chair off the floor and set it upright. “We both have made far too many mistakes this masque, trusting each other with information that was far too personal. Luckily for you, all I know is that you’re fundamentally lonely and desire physical affirmation. Which, all things considered, isn’t that damaging. Myself, however…well, we’ve gone over what I wanted to gain out of relationship, and the implication requires no elaboration. So go, Ryoma. Let the masque pass. Forget about it."

Ryoma stared at Xander for a long time. He didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed. “Fine. Fine, Xander.”

Xander let his arm fall and watched Ryoma walk away from him. Ryoma only turned around to close the door behind him. He did not look at Xander. The door clicked closed and Xander fell into his chair and held his head.


	10. The Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Make a spark, break the dark, find a light with me_  
>  Who we are, from the start,  
> Won’t you dance with me?

It wasn’t often that Xander had absolutely nothing to work on. But after Ryoma left the day before, it was surprisingly easy to finish his letter. After he had calmed himself down, he threw himself into his work, distracted himself with his duty, worked faster than he would have without the thought of Ryoma hovering in the background. He finished early that day, and now had the rest of the day to himself. It was a novel feeling.

He was walking through the halls when he saw Ryoma walking towards him. Needles prickled along his spine. Xander wished he was in his armor instead of casual clothes, to have some form of distance and protection. It would just be an appearance though, he knew. The entire reason that he decided not wear armor that morning so he wouldn't feel stifled the rest of the day. He woke up and knew that he’d just smother himself in layers of black armor. Panic had hovered far too closely. 

And then, Ryoma, again. He was not kind to Xander’s nerves. Just seeing Ryoma sent anxiety slicing against his ribs. He kept his gaze straight, did not look at how the kimono dipped down to show his neck, at the marks Ryoma showed off the day before. If he didn’t look, he would just pass him by, and then he could continue on.

Ryoma stopped walking. “Xander.”

“Prince Ryoma,” Xander replied, and made to pass him.

Ryoma stood in front of him and Xander had to stop just to make sure that he didn’t step on him. “May I have a word with you?”

“You've had plenty of words already. But if it will send you on your way, say what you like.”

“Thank you,” Ryoma said, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I do not like to do things rashly. I like to sit and think on things for a day or two, to make sure that I understand everything as fully as I can before I attempt to confront a problem. It has helped many times before. I don't think it's helped here. Taking some distance might've been unfair for you. But I took all the time I could to think.” Ryoma let out a long sigh and looked back up at him. “I would like to come to an understanding.”

Xander stared at him for a long time. “And what,” Xander started, “does an understanding entail?”

“A private conversation. One that will hopefully end better than yesterday's.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all I ask, Xander, if you’d indulge me.”

Xander stared at him. Ryoma waited patiently. Finally, Xander found his voice. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Ryoma said, bowed his head. “I've found a place that would be appropriate, if you would follow me.”

Xander walked alongside Ryoma. There were no words shared between them, their retainers silent behind them. Ryoma led him to an area that Xander was not familiar with. “There's no other doors down this hallway except for the one we'll be in, so our retainers can wait here,” Ryoma said, and his ninjas already took their position along the side.

“You heard him,” Xander said, and Laslow and Peri stood against the wall. Xander followed Ryoma down the short hallway. “I'm not familiar with this place, how did you find it?”

“I asked the servants for the most private place in the royal wing. I'm not sure if they misinterpreted me or not, but it certainly is more private than most of the other rooms.”

Xander pushed his brow together, began to question Ryoma, but then Ryoma opened the door and Xander realized he had led him to a bedroom. Xander colored. "I think you might have the wrong impression of me, Ryoma.”

“I assure you, I am not implying anything.”

“Really, because it looks like you're taking me for a whore.”

Ryoma shook his head. "It's an an unfortunate room, but it was the best for a private talk." 

“And a private fuck.”

Ryoma pressed his eyebrows together, then closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “I understand your reservations. I only wanted a room where no one can overhear us. With our retainers far out in the hallway, this conversation is truly private, just for us. We have a lot to talk about.” Ryoma sat down at a table and poured a glass. Water, clear and crisp, filled the glass to the top. He slid it to the chair across for him, and poured another glass. "You were right before. I want to understand you more, and more importantly, understand how to proceed from here."

"There's no question. We don’t associate any more than necessary. That’s it."

"Then leave, Xander."

Xander didn't move.

Ryoma's face softened and he smiled a bit. "We talked before as men. Now, let us talk as princes."

"Then you can't expect the conversations to be as honest."

"Perhaps not. But we've seen more than enough of each other to have some honesty. I'd hope."

Xander narrowed his eyes. “This is a waste of my time.”

“I hope it isn’t. I won't force you to stay, but I do ask that you allow us to clear the air, so we don't have another instance of yesterday. Please allow me that.”

This Ryoma wasn't the one that danced with him. He wasn't the high prince either. He was both, and he was being patient with Xander, not being insulted or angry even as Xander bit and snarled. That was already more than how he acted yesterday. Xander walked over the chair across from Ryoma and wrapped his fingers around the top, held it so tightly he felt the wood creek. “You have a minute. Convince me to stay.”

Ryoma nodded. “First, I must apologize to you, Prince Xander. I have been cruel to you. I have made countless promises to you as Marx that I haven’t been able to keep to you as Xander. And you were right. I don’t like you. Up until last afternoon, thinking of you only made me feel annoyed. But I’ve talked to you before as Marx, and I do like Marx. I can like Xander as well. I need to overcome my own biases in order to accept that. You’ve done it for me all week when I had no reason to have that luxury. Let me return the favor now and give you the treatment you deserve.”

Xander stared at Ryoma for a long time, and neither of them said anything. Xander closed his eyes and sat in the chair. "I suppose now is as good as time as any," Xander muttered, then looked up at Ryoma. "I apologize for the shy boy of my youth. I fear he ruined whatever relationship we might've had with his quietness."

Ryoma blinked, shook his head and laughed softly. "I thought you hated me."

"No, that came later."

“Then I must apologize for the loud child you knew. By the time I learned patience, I did not want to give you any of my time. By the time I met Sakura and learned how anxiety and shyness worked, I had thought you as standoffish and nothing else.” Ryoma looked down at his water. “That last night, we talked for hours,” Ryoma muttered. “I walked away from you that night and I still had so much to say. We are very similar in so many ways, and it made every conversation compelling. We…well, I did that without any knowledge of our shared experiences. When I think that, I think that we really could've gotten along as children. But I never allowed that.”

“I wasn’t exactly starting conversations either.”

“Well, I don’t feel comfortable placing all the blame on you.”

Xander relaxed a bit. “How considerate of you.” Xander turned his glass absently, stared into it. “That’s…very like you.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

Xander nodded. “I realize. I didn’t think highly of you most of the time. But this week, you’ve showed Marx endless patience and understanding.”

“I’m flattered to hear you say that.”

“It’s true. It’s something I’ve noticed a lot. Just never towards me. In meetings, especially, even at a young age, and I’ve—” he started, then stopped.

“Go ahead,” Ryoma said.

Xander sighed. “I’m jealous of you, Ryoma, in many different ways.”

Ryoma’s eyes widened.

“Certainly not your fashion sense,” Xander said. He needed to barb in some way, make it seem lighter than he felt. “But your ability to rule, to lead has always made me envy you. Even at a young age, it seemed to come easily for you. You just had the temperament.”

“Really? I feel embarrassed of myself when I think back that far. I was inept. I only thought I knew the world.”

“Well I didn’t know it either. You seemed to be a prince while I was just pretending.”

“You never seemed to be pretending from my perspective. You seemed sure of yourself so often.”

“That’s very comforting, considering I rarely did.”

“Well, I always thought you had a stern face. Cold, very Nohrian. I suppose that helped.”

“Thank the gods for my face then.”

“It’s a good face,” Ryoma replied, then stopped as Xander blushed. “I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. I…don’t want to go down that path.”

“Don’t you?” Xander asked, before he could stop himself. 

Ryoma glanced at him, stared for a long moment before he sighed and closed his eyes. “That’s not the point of today. We’re just having a conversation. My apologies for derailing it.”

“That’s not your fault.” There was a long pause, conversation lulled. “So do you not face suffocating pressure of your role?”

Ryoma blinked, stared at him for a long moment. “Ah,” he said, like he remembered something. “It…isn’t suffocating, I wouldn’t say. But it is a burden. I wouldn’t be so desperate so release this week if I was entirely happy with my position.” He did not look at Xander as he said that, looking off to the side. “Considering how you’ve described your own situation,” Ryoma continued, slower, choosing his words carefully, “we do have different weights. But no, leading for me is not effortless.”

Xander nodded, stared down at his cup. He didn’t know how to proceed. He asked because he wanted to know, and he was grateful that Ryoma actually indulged him. But now there was nothing to say.

Ryoma spoke up, speaking quietly. “Why did you talk to Hinoka?”

Xander glanced up at Ryoma, found him meeting his gaze. “Because she looked like she needed it. That’s all.”

Ryoma just stared at him, sighed, shook his head. “You say it like it’s so simple.”

“What makes it so hard to understand?” 

“It doesn’t fit what I knew of you. I’ve heard your siblings say that you’re kind, but I’ve never been able to see you as a good big brother. You’ve always seemed cold and distant. No, wait, that’s not exactly true. I remember a couple of times, looking at you in the distance and seeing that you looked calm and almost kind. Then you looked at me and you were back to looking cold. I always just thought it was the trick of the light.” Ryoma looked away again, let out a sigh. “When I overheard you talking with Hinoka yesterday, I couldn’t believe it. Because ‘Marx’ always seemed more gentle than you. I am very sorry for thinking that.”

“I won’t take it too personally. I’d be lying if I didn’t think the same. It was odd to see you during the masquerade. You were incredibly open when all I’ve known is stone.”

“Well, I’m not normally like that,” Ryoma admitted, scratching his cheek, where a bit of pink stained his skin. “That was…ah…”

“You don’t need to explain anything. It’s not needed.”

“Well…thank you.”

“You’re great at embarrassing yourself in other ways that I don’t need to pursue this.”

“Thanks.”

“And on a similar vein to your question: Why did you dance with Elise?”

Ryoma blinked, surprised. “You saw me?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” Ryoma said. “That was the fifth night. You had just told me about Nohr. I saw your sister. She seemed very interested in the Hoshidan dance. After everything we said, it felt right to see if she’d like to learn and experience something Hoshidan. I’d like to say I would have done the same regardless of our conversation, but I’m not sure it’d be truthful.”

“Did you recognize her right away?”

“Elise has an unmistakable charm and purple streaks in her hair.”

“Charm?”

“Of course. Don’t be surprised about it.” Then, Ryoma added a bit softly, “I never really held any ill will towards your sister. She’s difficult to hate. She’s like a kitten. She’s caused Sakura stress in the past, but…well,” Ryoma sighed. “To be fair, a lot of things stress her out, and while Elise is overbearing, loud, pushes against everything Hoshidan…I’m an older brother too.” He smiled at Xander.

Xander let out a breath. “I must apologize if that seemed like I was interrogating you.”

Ryoma shook his head. “I’m not going to fault you. I was protective of Hinoka when you talked to her, both times. Elise is younger. It’s only understandable.”

Xander wanted to thank him, but his throat sealed on him. He nodded.

“Now, I’m afraid I might have to ruin whatever peace we have between us right now.” Ryoma took a drink, sighed, looked up at Xander, his face firm. "Tell me about Hephaestion."

Xander felt like Ryoma had stabbed him. He clenched his fist and his arm shook. "Why? He wasn't important before."

"He's important now.”

“No, no he’s not.”

“He was your retainer, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. Do you need to know anything else about him? This conversation isn’t needed. He’s not important. He’s dead.” 

“Xander. You were in a relationship with him. You’ve had a relationship with two people, him and me.”

“You don’t count,” Xander said, trying to keep his voice level. 

“I do. I’m here. This is something I need to understand. Tell me about him."

"What should I say? Do you want the color of his hair, his eyes, how he carried himself, how he died? Be specific."

"All of those would be fine."

"Red, like rust, braided down his back. Gray, like polished river stones but with all the glistening of jewels. As a retainer should, though he always seemed to look like being at my right was the best place to be and looked at me as he looked at galaxies. In battle against Hoshidans while I escaped."

"You loved him."

"I never had the chance to find out."

They stared at each other for a long time, then Ryoma closed his eyes and sighed, looked down at the table instead of at Xander. “My apologies. I simply wanted more context, to understand more about how you acted those final nights.”

“Well you understand now. Do you happen to have any dead loves that I can graverob?”

“Unfortunately, no. You know the extent of my relationships.”

Xander was silent, then sighed. When he spoke, the fire had smothered, and he just felt empty. “Our relationships…by which I mean my relationship with you and Hephaestion are very similar.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You asked. You wanted to know. So I’m telling you.” Xander sighed, crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to see Ryoma. “As I said, it’s similar, has echoes. With Hephaestion, our relationship wasn’t supposed to be anything. At least, that’s how I was told. I’m not sure if it was for him, how long he was in love with me. And I have no way of knowing. But that’s not important. It was supposed to be about learning about each other, then just to kill time, then for the warmth of each other, all the while saying that it didn’t mean anything more than friendship, and it wasn’t. And…” Xander sighed, shook his head. “I suppose that isn’t entirely relevant. But that’s I think all the context I can bare to give, if that satisfies your curiosity as to where you stand.” Xander didn’t mean for it to sound cruel, but it came out that way. 

Silence stretched. Ryoma looked down at his cup, slightly guilty. Xander sighed. “They weren’t soldiers,” Xander said, and Ryoma looked back up at him. “The battle…it wasn’t against soldiers. Hoshidans also terrorize our border, you know.”

“I know. We don’t like admitting it, but it does happen.” Ryoma sighed. “We do that, I realize. Hoshidans attack Nohrian border towns, and they’re just outliers, they shouldn’t be counted. Nohrians attack, and it’s just another example of Nohrian brutality. Too many people believe that to be true, and too many more know it’s a lie and don’t do anything to change that way of thinking. It’s just another thing I have to push when I start talking about revising our relationship with Nohr.” Xander stared at him, and Ryoma smiled. “You seem surprised.”

“I just…Thank you. For seriously considering it.”

“You don’t have to thank me yet. I haven’t done anything. I don’t even know how much I can do. This is just a pretty thought.”

It didn’t matter if it was just a thought. Something had changed. It stuck. Xander was silent for a while, watched Ryoma drink his water. He wasn’t how he was during the masquerade, but he was calm. He still had the samurai crown on, but he still looked gentle. Gentle, soft, content, with Xander. Xander felt stupid, sentimental, but he didn’t really care anymore. He took a deep breath and asked “Do you…do you regret any of it?” 

Ryoma blinked, lowered his cup, stared at Xander. Xander wondered if Ryoma could feel what he was really asking.

“Was it worth it?”

Ryoma stared at Xander for a long while and Xander met his gaze. He kept it steady, pushed his thumbnail into his finger to make sure it stayed that way. Ryoma leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Objectively speaking, it was very much worth it, just for the political implications. I told you before that I wanted to help change our countries, and I will, to the best of my abilities. As much as I can provide, I will. That desire to change, that has nothing to do with Marx. That has everything to do with how I feel, how I want to change our countries. I know I said before that I wanted to make you proud, but that is just corollary. I simply don’t want to stand by idle anymore. And that will not change.” Ryoma’s face softened, just a bit. “I wasn’t going to throw Nohr to the side just because I might not have liked you.”

“I realize. You are not that kind of person. I feared it, but it wasn’t justified. Still, the affirmation helps.” Xander ran his finger along the rim of his glass. “I too want to change. In all aspects. Myself, my country, change to a better place too.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But I wasn’t finished.” Ryoma leaned across the table. He seemed to be fighting to keep his calm, a flush starting across his cheeks. “I don’t…I can’t regret any of it. It was all worth it.” For a long stretch of time, Xander stared at Ryoma. Ryoma just stared back before he licked his lips and spoke again. "Xander, may I kiss you?"

"You never asked before."

"I probably should have though."

"You should."

"Should’ve asked?"

"Should kiss me," Xander said, then leaned over the table and did so. He still expected to be pushed away, but when Ryoma raised his hand, it was only to pull him closer. The kiss was slow, not quite tentative, but it wasn’t the heat that came when he kissed Ryoma previously. It lasted though, long enough that Xander had to pull back to breathe. Ryoma sat back in his chair and hooked his fingers behind his ears and eased the faceplate off. His hair was pushed out of place, hung in his face until he smoothed it back behind his ears. He set the crown on the table, looked back up at Xander. 

Xander paused, then sat down on the table himself and slipped the circlet off of his forehead and set it beside Ryoma’s. Ryoma stood up, walked around the small table and stood in front of Xander. Xander raised an eyebrow as Ryoma laid his hand against Xander’s neck and pushed his head up with his thumbs, so he was looking up at him. “That circlet holds your hair down a lot,” Ryoma muttered. “That final night, I realized that your hair hung down into your face slightly. I felt that fringe before. I wanted to know how it framed your face.” He rubbed his thumbs along his jaw. “You look very good like this.”

“You look far better without that stupid faceplate,” Xander muttered. 

“Rude,” Ryoma muttered, leaning down, and Xander put his hand against Ryoma’s chest to stop him. 

“I’ve wanted to see your face like this for a couple of days now. I’m glad to see it now.”

Ryoma pushed down and kissed him, teeth scraping his lips. It was like they were back at the masquerade, Ryoma with no lead in, pushing forward, forward, against Xander, like he was going to knock him out of his chair an onto the floor. It felt like they were back at the masquerade again, but when Xander opened his eyes just a bit, he saw Ryoma, maskless, eyes closed, kissing Xander. Xander pushed back, winding his hands into Ryoma’s hair, holding him there. They pulled away sooner that time, and Xander kissed his neck.

“Xander,” Ryoma muttered, and Xander closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Xander, we should probably stop.”

“Do you want to?” Xander said against his bruised skin.

Ryoma pulled back a bit and looked down at Xander. He laughed a bit, pushed his hair out of his face. “No. But we should—” and Xander stood up and kissed Ryoma, cutting him off. Ryoma pulled back, his hands on Xander’s neck. “I was talking.”

“Are you planning on saying anything worth hearing?”

“Yes. We don’t know if there’s any lubricant here.”

Xander stared at him. “Maybe we should…check to see if there’s some. If that’s something you’re interested in—”

“Yes. It is.”

They broke apart and went to different dresser on either side of the bed, pulling them open. Xander’s heart was pounding. His fingers shook. He felt eager, kept glancing over at Ryoma. This was probably a bad idea, but Xander couldn’t think about that. He didn’t want to. Ryoma didn’t regret him, still wanted him.

“Found some,” Ryoma said, pulling out a tin. “It’s a bit concerning that it’s in here, actually. It hasn’t been opened. I wonder if the servants placed it here…ah, that’s embarrassing.”

“Do you want to leave and ask the servants?” 

Ryoma reached over the bed and grabbed Xander’s shirt and pulled him half over the bed towards him, into a kiss. Ryoma’s tongue slipped into Xander’s mouth and he moaned softly. Xander moved onto the bed, kneeling on it, and Ryoma did the same. Ryoma slid his hand down Xander’s back, moved over his side, down to his hip. “You’re wearing less clothing now,” Ryoma muttered. “It’s very easy to get you shivering.”

Xander flushed, a sour retort biting his tongue, but he swallowed it. Ryoma meant well. He was smiling, he was enjoying being next to Xander. He was enjoying Xander. “You probably hate that I’m wearing buttons though,” Xander muttered, feeling Ryoma’s hand curl over his hip.

“I do, actually.” His fingers went along Xander’s belt. “They are quite annoying.”

“We can’t all just tie knots in our clothes and call that fashion.”

“Maybe it’d be easier if you didn’t wear so many layers,” Ryoma said.

“A male kimono has five parts.” Xander said. He fingered at the white haori-himo at his chest, then figured out how to unfasten it.

“Four parts now,” Ryoma said, then slid his ivory haori off his shoulders. “Three.” His hands went back to Xander’s body, undoing his belt and then untucking his shirt. “Maybe we should just accept that both of our countries have needlessly complicated clothes and that we look much better without them.”

“With an attitude like that, your actions during the masquerade make a lot more sense.” He leaned down and kissed Ryoma again. Ryoma’s hands moved between him, tugging at his cravat, fidgeting at buttons. He was clumsy still, but Xander could only care about Ryoma’s hands warm against his chest.

Distantly, he thought that kissing Ryoma might’ve been a terrible idea, that simply entertaining the idea of sex with him wasn’t what he should be doing. Ryoma pulled away, kissed along Xander’s jaw, the faintest smile on his lips and Xander really couldn’t bring himself to care. Xander grabbed Ryoma’s hair and tilted his head back, kissing him again. “I’m not going to get your clothes off if you keep doing that,” Ryoma muttered. 

“Then maybe I should do it for you. You can do the same for me so I don’t have to figure out how to undo your obi.” Xander slipped his vest off. Ryoma managed to do well enough. He figured out to get his cravat off, his vest undone, and half of his shirt. “Did you practice undoing Nohrian clothes?” Xander asked while he untucked shirt and undid the rest of the buttons.

“Now what makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“Ryoma, I remember the fourth night.”

Ryoma bowed his head, like he was concentrating on undressing and not like he was hiding the pink that Xander saw. “Ah, I have no reason to answer you.”

“None at all,” Xander said, sitting down to take off his boots.

“If you asked Saizo, he’d have to give you an answer though.”

Xander chuckled. “That poor man. You must’ve spent hours practicing on him.”

Ryoma pressed his lips against Xander’s back, and he paused, closed his eyes and felt Ryoma’s lips trace over his spine. “If you’re done trying to embarrass me,” Ryoma muttered against his shoulder, scraped his teeth over a spot. Probably his hickey. “I’m naked.”

Xander pushed his pants and underwear off and turned around on the bed, wrapped his hands around Ryoma’s shoulders and kissed him again. His finger found Ryoma’s scar, began tracing it again, down to his elbow, further down, where it was thicker on his wrist. Ryoma broke their kiss, looked down at his hand as it began its track back up. His hands shook a bit against Xander’s hips. “That’s Raijinto, correct?”

“Yes,” Ryoma whispered. It did not approve of me my first time using it. I was too haughty. This was a lesson in humility.”

“I’ve been shocked by lightning before. It doesn’t scar too long.”

“It’s been this way for fifteen years. It’s still sensitive, as you can tell. I don’t think Raijinto will let me forget.” Ryoma looked up at Xander, ran his fingers down his neck. “Siegfried doesn’t burn?”

“It can. It never did with me. Siegfried works differently than yours. Yours seems like a constant outpouring of energy.”

“Yours is internal then?”

“Like a second heartbeat, but heavier.”

“That’s a heavy burden.”

“It’s mine though. It doesn’t feel much different from a bad anxiety attack most of the time.”

“Admirable,” Ryoma muttered, kissed him again. He tugged Xander down onto the bed, so they were lying on their sides. Xander moved over him, his hands rubbing over his shoulders while Ryoma’s hands traced patterns on his hips. It was soft, but Xander just wanted more. They pulled away and Ryoma reached over for the lube. He cupped Xander’s hip, pushed, tried to roll him onto his back. Xander didn’t move, stayed like iron. Ryoma looked up at him, then sighed. “Okay. I understand.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Xander said.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ryoma said, tracing his fingers over Xander’s lips. 

“How do you even know what I mean?” Xander wasn’t sure why he was pushing, trying to instigate, like he wanted Ryoma to yell at him. 

“You’re right. I’m assuming,” Ryoma said calmly, looking up at Xander. “This isn’t the masquerade.” They stared at each other. “This really shouldn’t be happening at all,” Ryoma muttered as he reached up and cupped Xander’s cheek. He didn’t look like he wanted to stop. 

“It is though,” Xander fought the urge to kiss him. “But it’s just sex, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He opened up the tin. His fingers slipped against the surface twice before he clicked it open. 

“You’re very bad at jokes aren’t you?” Ryoma muttered as Xander slicked his fingers. 

Xander didn’t respond.

Ryoma pushed himself onto his elbows. “Do you actually mean—” Xander grabbed Ryoma’s thigh and pulled his legs apart, pressed his slick fingers into Ryoma. He stopped talking and gasped, fists clenching. 

“Too soon then?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“My apologies.”

“Surprisingly, I don’t mind,” Ryoma muttered, groaning as Xander’s finger thrust deeper.

“I’ll still be more gentle with you from now on.”

Ryoma nodded, laid back on the bed. Xander tried not to stare at how he looked, hair underneath him, naked, completely naked. It was hard not to watch his face. He could get lost in the press of his eyebrows. It made it harder to say that he was still using Ryoma, no matter how he repeated it in his head, thought it at every shuttering breath Ryoma took. Ryoma made things complicated. Simple concepts tangled. Xander realized he wanted things, wanted things so badly that he needed it. Maybe if he told himself that it was just sex, the string could be unraveled. Maybe seeing Ryoma outside of the masquerade would break some illusion and he’d find that he wasn’t attracted to Ryoma all that much after all. 

It wasn’t that easy. The mask covered his forehead, his cheeks. It wasn’t a lot. But seeing Ryoma arching against the bed as Xander’s fingers thrust into him was hypnotic. Xander focused on the spread of red over his cheeks, on how his eyebrows furrowed. His entire face changed when he showed emotion. It softened easily. Xander noticed that while they talked, but seeing how Ryoma’s face went slack when Xander pulled his fingers out only to change completely when Xander pushed another finger in was completely different. Xander couldn’t look away.

It didn’t take long for Xander to have three fingers thrusting inside of Ryoma. It felt like it was too soon. Xander just kept staring at Ryoma, the rise and fall of his chest, while his hands just moved on their own, thrust slowly, stretched Ryoma. He didn’t say anything, just watched Ryoma gasp and arch. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out. “Do you think that was enough?”

Ryoma opened his eyes, focused on Xander. “It seems like you’re deciding for me.”

“I can always do more.”

Ryoma reached for Xander’s hand and ran his fingers over his wrist. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure?

“Do I have to spread my legs for you for you to get the message?”

“Well eventually, but I do get the idea.” 

Ryoma sat up on his elbows and watched Xander spread lube over his cock. Xander kneeled back on the bed and Ryoma tugged him back down into a kiss, briefly, then pulled back and helped line Xander up. Xander slowly pushed into Ryoma, watched his head fall back and he groaned. Xander kissed Ryoma’s throat, began thrusting slowly. Ryoma groaned and wrapped his arms around Xander, pulled him close and pressed his nose into his hair. Xander didn’t want to move quickly. He didn’t know why he needed it to be slow, but he didn’t mind, with Ryoma’s arms wrapped around him, his breath hitching as Xander thrust.

Ryoma tilted his head, muttered in Xander’s ear. “More, give me more please.”

Xander wanted to keep this slow drag. “I’ll give you a bit,” Xander muttered.

“Cruel,” Ryoma said against Xander’s jaw, then moaned with Xander reached between them and stroked his erection. He breathed steadily, gasping against his skin. Xander thrust slowly, steadily, running his thumb along the underside of Ryoma’s head. He closed his eyes, listened to Ryoma’s soft stream of noise. “Marx,” Ryoma moaned in his ear.

Xander went cold and stopped. Xander pulled back and grabbed Ryoma's hair and forced his head back. He seemed to have realized what he said, his eyes wide. That didn’t make Xander’s hands stop shaking. “At least grant me the dignity of hearing my own name.”

“Xander,” Ryoma said. He grabbed Xander's arm and held it as he tilted his head and kissed his wrist. “Xander,” he repeated. He looked up at Xander, moved his hand away from Xander’s wrist, touched his cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

Xander stared down at Ryoma, the flush still on his cheeks. “No.” He lowered himself back down against Ryoma’s chest, pressed his lips against Ryoma’s still exposed throat. “No,” he repeated. He rocked his hips into Ryoma again, gasped against his throat. He felt Ryoma swallow and started his slow rhythm again. His hand stroked Ryoma’s erection, and he heard his name quietly out of Ryoma’s lips. Everything was slow, but it still felt wonderful, he was getting closer, closer. 

Ryoma guided Xander’s head up and kissed him. Ryoma muttered something against his lips, so quietly Xander couldn’t even tell what language it was meant to be. It didn’t really matter. Ryoma locked his legs around Xander’s waist and pushed him closer. Xander gasped in his mouth and Ryoma broke the kiss, pressed their foreheads together. Xander kept his eyes open, stared into Ryoma’s eyes as he thrust, watched how his eyes stopped focusing when Xander moved his hand faster. Ryoma grabbed Xander’s arm and shook, hissing “Xander” as he came. Xander watched him, watched his face, watched him breathe out and relax as his head fell back onto the bed.

Xander just laid there, watching Ryoma pant, stroked his cheek as he came down from his orgasm. Ryoma slowly opened his eyes, blinked at him, tilted his head into Xander’s hand. “You’re still hard,” Ryoma muttered, shifting his hips.

“I know,” Xander said. He pulled out, sat up, and wrapped his hand around his length. He closed his eyes and let out a breath as he thrust into his fist.

Ryoma shifted underneath him, eased Xander back as he sat up. Ryoma put his hand behind Xander’s head, pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t close your eyes. Keep them on me, Xander.” He pushed Xander’s hand away and wrapped his fingers around Xander’s length. He pumped Xander’s length slowly, tilted his head and kissed him. Xander panted into Ryoma’s mouth, didn’t close his eyes. He hated him a bit, hated how easily he followed Ryoma’s orders, how he met his gaze as their tongues wound together, as his hips rocked into Ryoma’s hand. It was so easy to listen to Ryoma, to follow him. It happened too easily, and it wasn’t right anymore, unmasked.

His orgasm came easily under Ryoma’s hand. He gasped in Ryoma’s mouth, somehow kept his eyes open and on Ryoma as cum splattered on his chest. He felt Ryoma's smile against his lips. Ryoma pulled away from his lips and kissed along his jaw. Xander wanted to hate Ryoma, but he couldn't. Xander moved his hands to Ryoma’s hair, ran his fingers through his soft locks, rested his forehead against Ryoma’s and sighed. Ryoma wiped his hand on the sheet and moved to cup Xander’s cheek. Ryoma stared at Xander and Xander watched as his gaze went from soft and fond to wary, echoing the tightening in Xander’s chest. “We,” Ryoma started, slowly. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“No. We shouldn’t.” Xander slowly moved off of Ryoma’s lap and laid back on the bed, onto the pillows. He groaned and covered his face. He wanted to let Ryoma go, to leave everything from the masque behind him, and then he fucked Ryoma, again. He got caught up in seeing the lines of his face, the wrinkles around his eyes. Xander groaned again. “We are both twenty-six years old. We are both years away from ruling our countries. Why did we do that?”

“Because I’m the idiot that kissed you in a dark hallway,” Ryoma said, lying beside Xander. “And you’re the idiot that dragged me back.” He looked over at Xander, and Xander glared at the ceiling, pretending like Ryoma didn’t glow in the corners of his vision. “We fit well that way.”

Xander rubbed his face and sighed into his hand. “It’s not just sex,” he muttered.

Ryoma was silent next to him, then he reached over and rubbed Xander’s arm. “It’s not just sex,” he agreed. “So what do we do now?”

Xander stared at the ceiling for a long while, then blinked and looked back at Ryoma. “What do you mean?”

“What do we do, Xander?”

Xander stared at Ryoma. “Nothing. We do nothing. Ryoma, what could we even do?”

“Something, I’m sure.”

They couldn’t though. “It’s-it’s been a week. Just a week. There’s.”

“Xander,” Ryoma muttered, reaching to cup his cheek. Xander closed his eyes and sighed through his nose while Ryoma’s hand stroked his cheek. “Humor me. It’s not just sex.”

Xander leaned into Ryoma’s hand, just slightly, but Ryoma flattened his palm against his cheek. “What even needs humored?”

“Is there a way to continue this in any capacity?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to lose this ability to have a conversation with the one person who can truly understand me. At the very least, I'd like to keep that.”

Xander was silent, closed his eyes so he didn't have to see Ryoma anymore. “Don't…Do not take this as refusal, or that I'm not… _interested_ in the idea. But do you think it can be that simple? Do you think that we are capable of just having a conversation and have it mean nothing?”

Ryoma didn’t answer.

Xander laughed. “We couldn’t talk for an hour without having it end in sex…” 

“That…that doesn’t have to be a problem.” Ryoma pushed onward, stupidly. He was so sentimental. Xander still found it almost endearing. “We'll meet again. Fairly often, I might add. How many conferences have we both attended this year alone? There’s opportunity for us—”

“And what will we do, Ryoma? Shove out tongues down each other's throats and call it a discussion? Fuck in a closet and call it diplomacy? We’re princes, the future rulers of our countries. That can't work.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry to think that way…so negatively.”

Ryoma moved to rub his fingers against Xander’s hand. “No, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I suppose, but I understand you better now.” Ryoma made a sound, like he was going to continue, then stopped, just stroked Xander’s arm. 

“Having a platonic relationship…perhaps with time and distance, we can have a professional one. But we can’t have a platonic one, we’ve proven that we can’t do that.”

“And any other relationship is just not even an option?”

“There are plenty of things that we could be. But there are very few things that we should be, so we can’t. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” Xander insisted.

Ryoma didn’t respond. Xander had seen monks meditating before, and Ryoma, just staring at him felt like that. He felt like he could see his thoughts in his eyes, staring into a rippling pond. It made Xander uneasy. Ryoma was Hoshidan patience, able to wait while he sorted everything out in his head. He finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid of our relationship ending sourly and leaving you hurt. Xander, I understand that after what happened with Hephaestion you’re unwilling to let anything continue. I understand. But please realize that I am here too. Can you consider anything other than a firm ending?”

Xander shook his head. “No. No I can’t.”

“Xander.”

“This is not about—this isn’t Hephaestion. I’m being realistic. If you have an solutions that aren’t just based off of meaningless hopes, then please share.” 

Ryoma stared at Xander. “I don't.”

“That's what I thought,” Xander muttered. Too bitter. He rolled on his side, met Ryoma's eyes, then found he couldn't and looked at his hands instead. “I don't mean to be cruel or seem like I'm making fun of you. I have…thought about this lasting outside of the masquerade. And I liked what I thought that time.”

“When I wanted to take you to Hoshido.”

“Yes. Are you an early riser?”

“Depends on how my nights were.” Ryoma paused. “I didn't mean to imply anything, but I would probably be reluctant to leave my bed if you were in it.”

Xander laughed quietly. “Of course. It seems very like you.” Ryoma pulled at the curl on the end of his fringe, knuckles brushing Xander's jaw. Xander closed his eyes. “If our positions were any different, I would've liked to have this last.”

Ryoma was silent, his fingers stroking Xander's hair. Xander slowly opened his eyes again, stared into Ryoma's eyes. “If our positions were any different, I don't think we would be here.”

Xander stared at Ryoma, sighed, tilted his head into Ryoma’s hand. He wished Ryoma could’ve clung to sentimentality a little harder, humored the idea a bit more. “We're a mess,” Xander muttered.

Ryoma hummed, traced his fingers over Xander's face, fingertips gentle along his eyebrows, tracing down his nose, skimming to a stop on his lips. Xander didn't know what Ryoma wanted him to do. He just breathed against his fingers. “Could you tell me what you said that last night?”

“I’ve already forgotten.”

“Don’t lie, Xander.”

“It doesn’t matter, Ryoma.” Xander took Ryoma’s hand, pressed his lips against his fingers. “What would you do with my ramblings? We can’t have any relationship. It’s not worth continuing. So don’t burden yourself with it.”

Ryoma didn’t say anything, tilted his hand in Xander’s and held him. He squeezed his hand. “We should go.”

“We should,” Xander said. He sat up. If he hesitated, he wouldn't be able to leave him, would pull up the covers and just lay there until the sun rose and warmed them. Ryoma had places to be, and that place wasn't beside him. As he sat up, Ryoma followed, leaned against him and pressed his lips to Xander's shoulder. Xander looked over his shoulder. “Is that?”

“The mark I gave you. Sorry.” His finger traced over to the puckered arrow scar. “I just got distracted.”

“You know, I don't get distracted by your neck.” Ryoma pinched Xander before he slid off of the bed and gathered up his clothes. Xander tried to keep his back to Ryoma, tried to build up a wall again, push some distance. He kept looking over his shoulder at Ryoma’s back. A couple times, he caught Ryoma’s eyes. They ended up staring for a heartbeat, then looked away again. Ryoma looked sorrowful. Xander wondered if he looked the same. 

Xander finished dressing, obsessively straightened his sleeve as Ryoma put on the last layer of his kimono. “So that’s it,” Ryoma said.

“That’s it.” Xander’s circlet felt sharp, like there were thorns.

Ryoma sighed, nodded. “Then I suppose…I should leave. Enjoy the rest of my day, make sure my family’s…” he sighed. “Ready to leave.”

“I’ll make sure everything’s prepared for you.”

Ryoma looked at Xander, smiled a bit, nodded. “That’s good.”

Neither of them moved.

Ryoma reached inside of his kimono and pulled out a folded handkerchief. 

“What are you—”

“I give this back to you now, right? I found you, so now I return this.”

Xander stared at the folded white. He reached out and closed Ryoma's fingers around it. “Just…just keep it.”

Ryoma didn't say anything, met his eyes and nodded, then tucked the favor away. “I know we’ll see each other again today, but since we'll both be absorbed in our duty again,” Ryoma stepped forward, pressed his lips against Xander's, gently, just the faintest touch of warmth. He slid his hand down Xander's arm and stroked his wrist. Slowly, Ryoma broke the kiss, breathed against Xander's lips. “Goodbye,” he said, then stepped back.

“Goodbye,” Xander returned. And that was going to be it. Ryoma knew who he was, he wanted Xander even still, and they were going to let it go, let it fade. Xander still had so much to say, and if Ryoma left, they'd stay silent. So many times as a child, Xander wanted to say something, anything, but he didn't, couldn't. Ryoma turned away, walked to the door. He unlatched it, and the click echoed. Xander flinched, moved. "Ryoma," Xander started, grabbing Ryoma's wrist. 

Ryoma turned towards Xander. He didn't say anything, just waited. Xander's shyness and anxiety overwhelmed him, engulfed him like it hadn't had since he was a child. His mind buzzed with words, phrases, thoughts, feelings, and none of them reached his tongue. The sentences—fully formed, whispered in his head—stuck in his throat. There was so much to say and Xander couldn't figure out how to say anything. Ryoma's skin was warm under his hand. His pulse beat faintly against his fingers, steady where Xander was frantic. He could say it in Nohrian, clean the air in a language Ryoma couldn't understand, say it just to say it and have it no longer be stuck. But that wasn't enough. He didn't want to just say, he wanted to be heard.

Ryoma didn't ask anything, just waited. It felt like he’d wait forever for him.

"Thank you," Xander finally said. “Thank you, Ryoma. For everything.”

Ryoma opened his mouth to reply, then just closed it, nodded. Xander let his hand go and Ryoma left the room. Xander went back to the small table, poured himself a glass of water and drank until his heart stopped hurting.

\---

Azura was the one who came to Xander’s room and told him that the Hoshidans were preparing to leave. Xander thanked her for coming to get him. She nodded, turned to leave, paused in the doorway, and turned back to him. “You’re reading.”

“I am,” Xander said. He set his book on his nightstand and sat up on his bed. “I do read. Fairly often.”

“No, no I know. It’s just.” Azura paused, pressed her fingers against her lips. “It’s like I’m a girl again.”

Xander didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“It’s very nice. You’re…happier, I feel. You deserve it.”

Xander smiled a bit, rubbed her shoulder, pushed some of her hair behind her back. “I…do feel it. I’ll try to make it last. But until then, the Hoshidans are waiting.”

“Ah, yes.” Azura nodded and walked with him out of the palace. They didn’t say anything else, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Both of them just preferred silence. She smiled at him one last time as they stepped outside. 

Like before, Xander stood and waited with his siblings as the Hoshidans took their sweet time. When they exited the palace, they were all chatting among themselves. Xander heard Sakura mutter to Kamui that she liked Perugia. Xander relaxed a bit at that, even as Ryoma stepped down next to his siblings, looked over at the Nohrians, met Xander’s eyes. “We’ve kept you waiting again,” Ryoma noted.

“You have,” Xander replied. “This time I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Ryoma’s lips twitched a bit. Xander thought he should stop staring at his lips. He looked over at his siblings and they all stood in a line. As one, they bowed. “Thank you for having us,” they said in unison. Xander always found it a bit unnerving, how easily they fell into that, easier than soldiers. He supposed it was just a cultural difference.

His siblings bowed back, not as smoothly as the Hoshidans. “Stars guide you back home,” Xander said back to them. Then, to clarify: “Safe journeys back to Hoshido. I’m sincerely glad you all enjoyed yourselves. I hope you think about what this symbolized.”

Ryoma didn’t say anything, just glanced at his siblings. When neither of them said anything—though Sakura shifted like she wanted to, but she didn’t meet Xander’s eyes when he looked at her—Ryoma spoke. “I will, at the very least.”

Xander closed his eyes, let out a breath, nodded. There was nothing left to say. Nothing public anyway. He opened his eyes, watched as his Ryoma held the door of the carriage open for his siblings and helped Sakura in. Hinoka mounted her pegasus. Camilla sucked in a breath, ready to tease, and Leo elbowed her before Xander could begin to scold her. She looked at him and just giggled. “Come now,” she whispered. “One last time?”

“Counterproductive,” Azura muttered into her hand, her tone light and sing-song. 

“Aw. There she goes,” Camilla said as Hinoka took off, began circling above them. “My moment, gone.”

“You would’ve ruined the week,” Leo commented.

“Ruined it,” Elise agreed, waving at the carriage, trying to catch Sakura’s eye. She lowered her arms, looked up at all of her siblings, grinning at them. “We did do a good job, didn’t we?”

“You did,” Xander whispered back to them, trying not to stare at Ryoma, focused on his siblings. “You all did so well.”

“And you finally got to relax,” Leo said. “It’s a miracle.”

“Well, Camilla did nag me,” Xander said, and Camilla did not look at him. “I had to.”

“Well, we all got what we wanted, it seems,” Azura said, no longer hiding her smile.

Takumi and Kamui were in the carriage, and just Ryoma was left. He started, paused, then stepped back onto the ground. “Prince Xander,” Ryoma said, and their conversation stopped. Ryoma bowed again, just to Xander, then straightened, staring at him. His eyes were brown in the setting sun, near bronze. He smiled, just a bit. “Thank you. For everything.”

Xander started to speak, found that he didn’t have anything to say, closed his mouth and nodded. He watched Ryoma go into the carriage and closed the door. The driver pushed the carriage forward. Elise ran down the road a bit and waved both of her arms at them, as if they’d be looking. Xander wanted to stand next to her. Camilla stood next to Xander and looped her arm around his. She rubbed his elbow, hummed softly. He wished she'd just say "I told you so" so it wouldn't feel like pity. “We should get ready too,” Xander said, staring at the carriage like it was Ryoma’s back. “We have to go home too. There’s no reason to stay here.” He looked away from the horizon and looked towards his siblings. “I. I have something I want to talk about. It’s nothing that can be decided right away. It’s just hypotheticals to consider.”

Camilla rubbed Xander’s arm. “What’s on your mind?”

Xander pulled out of Camilla’s grip. “Change. For us. For Nohr. For Hoshido, too.” Xander walked forward, to the stables where their horses were stabled. He paused at the threshold. He let out a breath through his nose, cracked his fingers. He did not want to stagnant, he would not stay that way. He thought of Ryoma, and pushed forward again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at just a few pages shy of 200, it's done ;w; I can't believe I planned this as a short, ten chapter story and I accidentally wrote a novel.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, extra special thanks to those that left kudos, your small encouragments mean a lot, amazing thanks to those who commented, I'm so grateful for all that I received, and talking to you all was a blast. Thank you all for joining me in this ride, it's been so much fun to see this come together, to see it grow, to see others react to it. 
> 
> A million thanks to Khalye for providing the translations for the Italian in the previous chapters, she helped make this fic so much grander.
> 
> And...that's it folks. Kinda. I'm planning on posting pov swaps and alternate scenes (like if Xander was found out on earlier nights) on my tumblr, and they'll probably find their way on Ao3 eventually, and if I find out a feasible happily ever after, maybe that will happen too.   
> (I've also got...a lot more Ryomarx things planned in the future so...)
> 
> And...I guess that's it. I'm always willing to chat on tumblr if you have any questions about anything, any scenes you'd like to see written, so feel free to stop by.
> 
> Thank you all, again, for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit me on my tumblr, [TwiExMachina](twiexmachina.tumblr.com) as well! Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Art that was inspired by this:
> 
> [Won’t You Dance with Me](http://8tracks.com/vorturxe/won-t-you-dance-with-me)\--An incredibly elegant fanmix by [vorturxe](http://vorturxe.tumblr.com/)


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